Once Upon a Ring
by Stelmariana
Summary: Emma, Mary-Margaret, David, Hook, Regina and Gold end up in Middle-Earth after they take the portal. Together, they must face their new adventures there and play their parts in the War of the Ring. But they still have to find Henry, and all the evidence points to the fact that Greg, Tamara and Henry are there as well...
1. Chapter 1

**Once Upon a Ring**

**Author's note:**** Hello, all my lovely readers! I bet when you read the summary of this story, you just went "Whoa, this sounds weird! Ha! I bet the author's been high on caffeine and chocolate lately, and their imagination is currently as runny as The Leaky Cauldron's namesake." Actually... You'd be partly right. My imagination does tend to run wild at the slightest excuse for it, and I usually am also quite... **_**indulgent**_**, shall we say, when it comes to chocolate and coffee.**

**But please bear with me. I despise fics which depict totally unlikely relations and surroundings, especially when writers are entirely inapt to either complete or make sense of their story. However, although this particular idea seems a bit (alright, a lot) far-fetched, I have given it a great deal of thought, and my brain just went "Why not? They're going to another world anyway, so why couldn't I just make it a different one?". I solemnly swear I will do my best to make everything as clear and as plausible as possible.**

**If you decide to read this, please keep in mind that I am basing this idea on the fact that no-one from Storybrooke or any other lands in OUAT have heard about The Lord of The Rings. They have no idea what it is, so everything that happens to them is completely unexpected to them.**

**Any faults with this theory will either be made clear in the story or could be pointed out to me in a PM, which I will try to fix as best as I can. Both my little sister and I are gathering ideas and dialogues for this fic, and we are both quite excited about it (though mostly me).**

**I have read many, **_**many**_** fics in which characters have been introduced into the journeys of LOTR, and it has been an all-time favourite of mine. I have read most excellent works, notably the **_**Chance Encounter**_** series by TelcontarRulz, and **_**Pirates of The Ring**_** by Aelaer. They are my absolute favourites, and I worship the people who wrote them (I even have the stories in text docs on my Kindle!). I highly recommend that you read them if you like that kind of story; I mostly got my inspiration from them.**

**Enough of me prattling, on with the story!**

**So, here goes, and I hope with all my heart that you enjoy it! REMEMBER: if you do like it, please review or send feedback! A fire needs fuel to burn!**

**Prologue:**

Emma grabbed on to the boom behind Hook, and held on tightly. She kept her eyes locked onto the blue-green maelstrom that was going to take them to her son. In front of her, Hook was furiously steering the ship, guiding it towards the mass of swirling waters.

"So who are we up against?" David yelled, "Who are Greg and Tamara?"

"They're merely pawns," answered Gold, gripping the rigging as tightly as he could manage. "Manipulated by forces far greater than they can conceive. They have no idea who they're truly working for!"

Emma looked at him incredulously; he knew who they were working for?

"And who's that?" she shouted.

"Someone we all should fear." Gold shouted in response - somewhat unhelpfully. 'Thanks for the detail.' she thought wryly.

They rushed on, the _Jolly Roger _treading across the waves like a knife. The portal was growing closer and closer to them, and Emma welcomed it. She willed it to get close faster, so she could get to her son as quickly as possible before those anti-magic bastards did anything to him.

Only one question was revolving around in her mind, and it seemed to act like a magnet and create all sorts of other questions along with it; why did they want Henry? Couldn't they have just destroyed magic here and been done with it? Why take her son as well? Wasn't murdering Neal enough?

Emma didn't have any answers, but she sure as hell would get some soon. And when she did, Henry's abductors would wish they had never been born.

Suddenly, the portal was right in front of them. The passengers aboard braced themselves and clung on for dear life. The _Jolly Roger_ raced forward, climbing to the peak of a particularly high wave - the last ridge, the last obstacle between Emma and her son - and thundered into the vortex of magic and water.

Then, the ship, along with its passengers, disappeared in a flash.

**Chapter 1 - Where in middle-Earth...?**

Emma stirred and groaned, keeping her eyes closed. 'Coming to must be the most unpleasant experience on earth' she thought. She brought a hand up to her head, which was threatening to explode, to check for bumps and cuts. None. So far, so good. Now, how about sitting up?

She did so, and in the process spat out a foul-tasting leaf that had decided to settle on her mouth. 'Wait' she thought, '_a leaf _? On a bloody _ship_?' How was that possible?

This time, she opened her eyes - and saw green. Just green. There were leaves everywhere. Oak, by the look of them. She looked around, bewildered. The _Jolly Roger _seemed to be wreathed in leaves and branches - some were broken and splintered, as thought something massive had charged through them. Ah, yes - the ship

_Why the hell was the ship in a tree?_

Tentatively, Emma got to her feet - not an easy feat, as it happened, seeing as the deck seemed to be slanting at a thirty degree angle - and shakily took a couple of steps, gripping the boom above her. Her head collided with a particularly leafy branch, and she batted it away. She immediately regretted her action, though, as the sudden move made her head swim and her eyes lose focus. Not to mention increased the pounding throb that had developed between her eyes. She was having difficulty breathing, too, as though oxygen had been partly sucked out from the air around her.

She gently shook her head, trying to clear it and to gather her bearings. Her thoughts immediately went to her son; Henry! Where was he? Had they arrived in Neverland? Were Greg and Tamara close by?

Clutching her head, Emma looked around and tried to spot the others. She could see Hook's boots jutting out from behind the steering wheel, and Regina was sprawled onto the quarter deck, her soaking hair plastered about her face. This reminded Emma that she was sopping wet as well, and she tried to shrug her coat off as gently as possible, so as to avoid her head falling to pieces. The weather was warm here, and sunlight was filtering through the branches, casting a merry green-and-gold light around her.

Speaking of Gold, where was he? And her parents, were they all right?

Emma stumbled her way over to the hatch, brushing aside branches and wiping dead leaves off her face, clothes, and hair. When she reached the hatch, she breathed a sigh of relief; both David and Margaret were there, spread-eagled across each other. They were still unconscious, but looked otherwise unharmed. Emma also spotted Gold, who had begun to stir as well. She made her way over, and reached him just as he was opening his eyes.

"Gold? You all right?"

He looked at her, the same bewilderment on his face Emma knew her own was surely showing.

"I will be in a moment, I think." he sat up, and reached for his cane, which had rolled a few feet away. "Miss Swan, I... er... unless my eyes are deceiving me, we appear to be in some sort of tree. Am I correct?"

"Yeah, I think so. I guess the portal system hasn't heard of the term 'safe-landing'."

"Indeed. It's quite strange; portals usually land travellers on the same medium they had been on the other side. It seems this one is an exception to the rule."

He got up, and like Emma had, nearly slipped and fell over on the slanting deck. He grabbed the shrouds just in time to straighten himself.

Emma went over to her parents, and tried to lift Mary Margaret off David, without much success. Her head was still throbbing, and she was as tired as though she'd run ten miles. The salt caking her skin wasn't helping either. Finally, she managed to roll her friend (she still hadn't gotten used to calling her 'Mom') over on her back. Mary Margaret was breathing evenly, and seemed to be gaining consciousness as well. Her eyelids were fluttering, and soon she was opening them. She blinked in confusion as to all the green around her, but then she focused on her daughter's face, and her face split into a wide smile.

"Emma," she breathed, "you're all right!"

Emma smiled back faintly. " 'Course I am. What about you? Are you hurt?"

"No - I'm fine, I think. My head feels like it's going to burst though. Where's David? Is he OK?"

"He's right here, and he looks fine. Hasn't woken up yet, though."

Mary Margaret sat up, and put a hand down to steady herself. "That portal was something of a rough ride, huh?" she muttered. Emma nodded in agreement. She wouldn't forget the pain in her head in a hurry.

"Has everyone else woken up?" asked her mother.

Emma shook her head. "No. You, Gold and I are the only ones. Hook and Regina are still down; they're up on the quarter deck. I haven't checked how they were yet."

"Let's go see, then."

Emma helped Mary Margaret to her feet, and after having shifted David into a more comfortable position, they made their way together to the others on the upper deck. Mary Margaret went to see if Regina needed any help, and Emma approached Hook, who was lying exactly where he'd been when she'd first woken up. With difficulty, she lifted a heavy branch off him, and cast it aside. Hook was breathing faintly, and he had no visible wound about him, but his exceedingly pale face made Emma worry slightly. She watched him for a moment, waiting for him to show the tell-tale signs that he was waking up. But then watched pots don't boil, and apparently watched pirates don't wake up either. She knelt down and took his pulse under his jaw, and found it to be strong and pounding. She also noticed his hand clutching his ribs, and she felt slightly relieved. He probably didn't have any serious injury, but the rough journey through the portal had most likely taken its toll on his recently-damaged ribs, and the pain it caused him probably accounted for the paleness of his face.

She removed the other branches that were covering him, and tried to shift him into a position that didn't make him look as though he'd been run over by a car - again.

"Couldn't resist touching, eh lass?" said a raspy voice.

Emma started and looked up to his face. He'd opened his eyes and was watching her, faintly amused, although his features were tight and his smirk strained with pain. She sighed and rolled her eyes. 'Hasn't changed, then' she thought.

"Stay still." she said firmly when he tried to sit up, wincing in pain. "Your ribs have probably woken up after that little underwater expedition, and moving around will only make them worse."

"Aye, aye, Captain." he quipped, a smirk forming on his face again. "Wouldn't want to cross the Lady Swan. Oh, wait. I just did."

Emma didn't bother to respond, and instead shot him a dark look. She got to her feet again and turned to see how Mary Margaret and Regina were getting on.

Regina was sitting up with her back against the railing, a hand cradling her head, and looking as though she'd been through the Gobi desert. Salt was crusting on her clothes, and her lips were cracked and dry. Mary Margaret was beside her, a hand on Regina's shoulder, murmuring things that seemed to have no effect on the former queen whatsoever. As Regina looked up, she spotted Emma.

"Hello, Miss Swan. I see you survived the passage. Any trace of our son and his captors?"

Emma shook her head, her mind once again turning to the torturing thoughts that had threatened to take over during the whole time of her consciousness. "We're all still on the ship, which seems to have landed in a tree - don't ask why, I don't know - and there hasn't been the slightest sign of life around here yet. Apart from the tree, that is. And... It looks like we're stuck here until further notice. Or until you or Gold can conjure up something that could lead us all down to safety. The ship looks like it's about to keel over."

It seemed Regina had come up with the same conclusion, because she stood up, and tried to steady herself using the ship's rigging as support. Mary Margaret helped her up, and, much to Emma's surprise, Regina didn't reject her. Mary Margaret then went back over to her husband, who was now also gaining consciousness. Emma and Regina followed her, hanging on to the ropes above them to prevent themselves from falling and tumbling off the precariously-balanced ship.

When they finally arrived - Emma dizzy with her headache and Regina looking like her legs were made of cotton - David had woken up, and was busy protesting to Mary Margaret who was fussing over him like a mare over her new-born foal.

"I'm _fine _Snow. A little shaky round the edges, but I can stand by myself. What can a prince do if not walk un-aided?"

"Oh, I don't know," replied Gold smoothly, "perhaps _stand_ un-aided?"

The prince shot him a filthy look and opened his mouth to retort, but Snow cut him off.

"Emma, where's Hook?"

"He's near the steering wheel; lying down, if he knows what's good for him. His ribs likely got damaged again when we went through all the rough-and-tumble of that blasted portal. He won't be getting up anytime soon."

Snow nodded, and turned to Gold.

"Any ideas about our situation, Mr Gold?"

"Especially about the fact that we seem to be perched at the very top of a large tree." inserted Regina testily. "I don't recall ever having heard of a portal landing people where they didn't take off from."

Emma looked around at that, only now realizing just how large this tree had to be to host the whole of the ship. 'This must be one hell of a tree' she thought, 'Probably the size of the sheriff station, without even including the trunk!'

Gold just shrugged. "There are exceptions to every rule. Long has man tried to categorize everything that crosses his path, and yet never has he succeeded."

Emma looked up sharply. Her superpower, as Henry liked to call it, had picked up a scent. Gold wasn't telling them the truth; or at least not the whole of it, was Emma's guess. She looked at him closely, but his face revealed nothing, and she resolved to confront him about this later.

"Sorry to interrupt this cosy little chat, but now that we're all actually on our feet, perhaps we could get to figuring out how we are to get my ship down?"

Everyone turned, only to see Hook leaning against the mast, looking quite at ease, although he still had a hand to his ribs.

Emma frowned. "I thought I told you to stay lying down." she said.

"Ah, but love, lying down is so much more fun when in the company of, say...a beautiful woman. Quite like yourself, in fact."

Regina raised her eyebrows, Mary Margaret shook her head and David growled "Watch it, Hook-", but Emma just smiled.

"It wouldn't be if I'd been the one to get you there first by knocking you out. Remember lake Nostos, Hook? I'm quite prepared to do it again, cracked ribs or not."

Infuriatingly, Hook just chuckled. "Anytime, darling."

This time, Emma glared at him, and probably would have punched that annoying smirk off his face as well, had Mary Margaret not interfered and suggested that they stopped bantering and started to find their way down. "The sooner we can get down, the sooner we can get to Henry." she added to persuade Emma.

"Excellent idea, dearie," said Gold in a bored voice, "what do you suggest?"

Snow looked at him with the regal expression she and her husband wore sometimes without knowing it.

"I was going to ask if you or Regina could use magic to let us down - something like a ladder, or a levitating spell, or even just teleport us to the ground." she said coolly. "But what you said just now leads me to believe that it would be silly to do so. The question is, though: why?"

Gold chuckled softly. "Straight to the point, as usual. Seems to run in the bloodline, doesn't it?" The Charming family glared at him, and he went on. "But you are quite correct. It is impossible for me - and, I dare say, our dearly beloved Queen" he nodded to Regina, who was looking uncomfortable, "to summon up even the flimsiest of rope ladders at the moment."

"Why?" asked Emma sharply. How could this happen? Did this mean they had lost the only advantage they had over Greg and Tamara - magic?

Gold glanced at Regina. "I take it you didn't tell them?"

Emma rounded on the woman beside her, worry and anger distorting her features and voice.

"Tell us what, Regina?!" she nearly shouted. "My son - oh, heck - _our _son is out there, with his captors, and every moment lost is another for them to get away!"

Regina had resumed her look of uncaring coldness. "Miss Swan, I assure you that my mind resides every second of every minute on the fate of my son; panicking will hardly do us any good in our quest to find him. As for what I didn't tell you, I barely had the chance to." She removed her scarf and coat (it really was quite warm up here) and sat down on the only surface around them that could be described as flat, the hatch. "When I woke up after the passage through the portal, I immediately sensed a tightening in my body, in my mind. Like I was being deprived of breathing in the required amount of air. Miss Swan, I know you must have felt it too, and so has Rumplestiltskin. It's because of magic. It's different here, I'm not even sure if it's present."

Emma exchanged a look with her parents. This did not sound good. Emma recalled the tightening in her chest and the difficulty she'd had to breathe earlier. Maybe it could account for the splitting headache that was raging on in her head as well.

"Different, as in - it doesn't exist?"

Regina shook her head. "As I said. I'm not sure. It's like... I can't get hold of it, and I can't make it do what I want - Not that I tried." she added quickly when Emma looked suspicious. "I can _feel_ it. Can't you?"

Emma, taken off-guard by the sudden question, didn't know how to react. Then, she remembered what Gold had said about magic; _It's about emotion. You have to _feel_ it. _She closed her eyes and concentrated on her love for Henry, on how desperate she was to find him. Her mind reached out for those immaterial threads of power that had always been on the edges of her mind since the curse had been broken. Her mind, however, only sensed emptiness, and something...wild, untameable. And old...so _old_. She opened her eyes, startled.

"Yeah," she breathed, "it's strange. Almost unfamiliar - like we've never used it before."

Both Gold and Regina nodded solemnly.

"I've never been to Neverland before, and so I couldn't predict this sudden change in plans. It seems we will just have to improvise." Gold said.

David, who'd been watching the exchange between the trio of magicians with concern, suddenly clapped his hands and rubbed them together, with the forced air of someone who wanted to change the subject and lighten the mood.

"We make it up as we go along, then? My favourite kind of plan." he said briskly, ducking under a few branches and the mast to reach the railing of the ship. "It's quite high up from the ground, but there are lots of branches to let us climb down."

At this, Hook visibly bristled.

"What are you saying, mate? That we're about to leave my ship on top of this bloody tree?"

Charming sighed and turned to him. "Unless you can find a way of lowering it down, _Hook, _then yes. And I am not your 'mate'." He started to pick up stray ropes - they'd all been uncoiled and scattered about during the passage - and gathering them together. "But keep this in mind: this is a tree. Oak, actually. It's highly unlikely for it to be anywhere near the sea. So once you get it down, how are you going to set it afloat again?"

Hook narrowed his eyes at him, and made his way to the railing as well, still clutching his ribs. He looked over the edge, and groaned.

"The prince has a point." he declared to the others. "It looks like she's well and truly stuck up here. And we're nowhere near the sea; Neverland has few trees as high and large as this one, none of which are so much as close to water."

Emma looked at him disbelievingly. "You know the exact location of every oak tree in Neverland?"

He shrugged.

"It's not a very big island, love. And when you spend more than three hundred years around it, you soon get to know it pretty well."

"So how are we going to get down?" asked Emma, in a voice that she hoped could pass as level and calm. Regina's comment on panic had made her admit to herself, albeit reluctantly, that the queen was right: it wasn't going to help them find Henry. She resolved to show only strength and determination from now on.

"With this." David said unexpectedly. He lifted up a tangle of ropes to show them. "We'll tie them into a harness, and lower ourselves one-by-one to the ground once we get to the lowest branch - which is still quite high off the ground."

He started knotting the ropes together, and soon Emma and Mary Margaret were helping him complete the task.

"This is how I made the net; the one that captured you the second time we met, Snow. Remember?" he said, grinning at his wife.

Mary Margaret smiled, fondly recalling the moment.

"You mean the time you threatened to leave me literally hanging inside a trap ten feet up in the air unless I gave you the ring back? Yeah, I remember. No wonder I christened you 'Charming'" she said sarcastically, hitting him on the arm. "It's a good thing for me you don't hoist me up every time you want something now."

"Depends what for, princess." interjected Hook, winking at her.

Emma's jaw dropped open and Regina sighed in exasperation, but Mary Margaret ignored him. Though she did seem to vent her feelings on the knot she was tying. David was visibly trying to contain his fury at the pirate being overly suggestive to his wife, and did so by handling a particular rope so roughly that several threads ruptured and left the rope close to useless. Trying, and failing, apparently.

"You're awfully chipper for a guy who's with people he considered enemies two days ago, with his archenemy close by, all of us aboard your ship - who's currently stuck in a tree - and is about to leave her behind." Emma piped up.

Hook shrugged, still smirking, though the mention of his stuck ship seemed to have sobered him down a bit. "That's me, love. Always the optimist."

"Yeah, and annoying." retorted Emma.

"And a pirate." cut in Mary Margaret

"And-" started Regina, but was cut off by David.

"The point being, Hook, is that we're about to leave this boat up here, so I suggest that you start saying your goodbyes now." he said firmly, his hands still in the mass of rope in front of him.

"Ship."

"What?"

"She's a ship, not a boat." Hook muttered, climbing up to the steering wheel.

O0o0o0o0o0o0O

Fifteen minutes later, the harness was ready, and the six travellers were getting ready to leave the ship. David offered his hand to Mary Margaret as she climbed over the railing. She took it with a smile, and they clambered over one after the other. Gold managed to get himself over the railing un-aided, although David half-heartedly asked him if he would need any help - which, to nobody's surprise, he refused. Regina climbed over the railing as regally as possible - by sitting on it and swinging both legs over gracefully- her coat and scarf neatly folded over one arm.

Emma was about to follow suite, but then turned around to see what Hook was getting up to. She opened her mouth to tell him to hurry the hell up, but closed it again when she saw him. He was passing his hand over the polished-by-the-years wood of the wheel, the boom, the mast. His eyes roamed around, as though trying to memorize every inch of his ship. Emma's gaze softened slightly as she saw the sorrow on his face as he was forced to leave his long-time companion.

"Hey," she said quietly, "You'll see her again, Hook. It's not as though we're stuck here forever. We'll figure something out, you'll see."

He turned to her, then resumed his final look-over the ship. "We've been through a lot, this ship and I. She's the only lass that never left me."

Emma rose an eyebrow, a slight smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. "From what I've gathered, you were the one leaving them."

"Aye," Hook said with a small grin, "I suppose that's true. Doesn't mean this one's the same, though." With that, he gave the ship a final sweeping look, and he walked to the railing, where the others were waiting for them. He waited for Emma, and held out his hand to help her over.

Emma rolled her eyes. "The gentleman thing again. Right?"

Hook smiled at her devilishly.

"My dear Swan, however did you guess?"

Emma shook her head, but took his hand nevertheless and climbed over. Hook followed her, and they climbed down a few branches to reach the others, who were already on the lowest branch of the tree. Emma suspected Gold had given in to David's offer to help, as some branches were quite difficult to get past, even for her.

When they reached the small group on a very large branch that split into a 'V', David explained the harness system to them. They would lower someone down, preferably someone with plenty of strength and fully able ("Someone like you, then." said Hook, with a hint of sarcasm. He was ignored), who would then act as leverage for the next person by keeping a hold on the rope while they were being lowered down by the others. The rope would be passed over one branch for safety, and each person who reached the ground would help the others hold the rope for the next person being lowered down.

Gradually, the group managed to lower everybody to the ground, without too many mishaps (that is, not counting Hook slipping and falling to the ground the last few feet, or Mary Margaret tumbling off and landing into David's arms, who let go of the rope in surprise).

When everybody had picked themselves off the ground and brushed grass and dust off their clothes, they were finally available to look around them for the first time. What they saw was this:

Green. Green everywhere. Not just trees, but wide, rolling hills too. Meadows, fields, fens, woods... Just grass and trees all over the place. They were on the edge of what appeared to be a wood of oaks, on the top of a small hill, with the tree hosting the _Jolly Roger _behind them. In the distance, they could make out golden patches of wheat, fields of corn, even some sheep and pigs in a few large meadows.

Emma stared at all this, and felt like a stone had dropped through her stomach. Doubt gnawed at her mind, the clouds of uncertainty and desperation, maintained somewhat under control up till now, threatening to invade her being again. She stared and stared at the scenic countryside in front of her. She felt the same shock and disbelief that kept her companions' tongues tied stop her own from functioning properly.

She looked at Hook, who was standing beside her.

"I thought... I thought Neverland... was a small island. You know, with sea around it." she uttered, her tongue stumbling with shock. "And... That it only had Lost Boys, mermaids and Indians on it..."

Hook turned to her, his face blank, but his eyes showing the same confusion and doubt everyone else was feeling.

"Oh, Neverland has much more than that, love. It has beasts as well. And fairies, pixies, normal animals... And pirates." he said with a neutral voice.

Emma said nothing, but looked at the others. They were staring at Hook as well now. And looking like they wanted an explanation.

Hook turned back to staring at the hills in front of them.

"Aye. That's what Neverland is like." he said. "But this isn't it."

Emma felt the heavy drop of dread and fear again. No... It couldn't be true... They _had_ to be in Neverland. What had happened? Where was Henry?

"How?" She asked sharply, no longer caring if her voice trembled. "How is this possible? Hook, you _said_ we would get to Neverland through the portal. How can you be sure this isn't it?"

Hooked looked back at her again, annoyed.

"How can I be sure?" he repeated. "I know the island, Swan. It doesn't have anything like this anywhere. The most open space you get around Neverland is the sea - of saltwater, not this bloody green stuff."

Silence.

"So... we're _not_ in Neverland, then?" asked Mary Margaret quietly, her tone suggesting she already knew what the answer would be.

Hook squinted at the horizon, not looking any more bothered than if he'd discovered a cockroach on his pillow.. "It wouldn't seem so." he replied.

Emma took a deep breath, and made her voice as steady and firm as she could.

"Then where... The hell... Are we?" she said, gritting her teeth.

Hook smiled faintly.

"That, love, is an excellent question. And the answer to which is I'd like to say your hair looks particularly lovely today; did you do something to it?"

Emma glared at him. If looks could kill, Hook would be six feet underground and seriously regretting it.

"You mean to tell me," she said in a quiet but dangerous tone, "that not only are we not in Neverland, but we don't know where we actually are, my son's captors are getting away every second we tarry, and we have no idea where they could be?"

Hook grimaced.

"Only three out of four, love. We do actually know where Henry's yeasty codpieces of kidnappers are: in Neverland." he pointed out.

"Theoretically." he added as an afterthought.

Emma was visibly getting closer to shrieking her head off at the infuriating pirate, and her parents noticed it too. Snow gently placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder and pulled her away, talking to her quickly and quietly. David, however, went up to Hook.

"How did this happen?" he asked the pirate levelly, regally.

Hook shrugged.

"Honestly, mate - sorry, Your Majesteriority - I haven't the faintest whiff of a sardine's breath as to how we came here." he said nonchalantly. "But, I suggest that you explore _all_ theories before you kill me -" he added quickly, seeing David was getting ready to punch him. "I'm sure the Crocodile will have something under his skin that might just serve as an explanation." he added, his tone suddenly going darker at the mention of his archenemy, even if he'd brought it up himself.

Gold looked up at the mention of his name. Up till then, he had studiously been ignoring Hook - the latter likewise - and only spoken once or twice. The others had almost forgotten he was there.

Gold sighed.

"He's right - for once" he said. Hook glowered at him. "I do have a...theory as to how we came here. But I doubt anyone here will like it."

Emma, whom Snow had managed to calm down a little, raised her eyebrows at Gold expectantly.

"It doesn't _matter_ whether we like it or not, Gold. Just say it! I want to know how to get to my son." cut in Regina, looking frustrated.

Rumplestiltskin smiled dryly. "Very well, dearie; I shall."

"You remember, I imagine, that blasted diamond that almost killed us all?" The others nodded. How could they forget? "It seems that tampering with such a large and functional magical masterpiece that is Storybrooke - created by our powerful Queen - " he nodded to Regina, "had a grave impact on magic around it. You see, all worlds - with and without magic - are parallel; never quite touching, never interfering, but nevertheless present. The exceptions to the lack of interference and contact between them are portals, created by the beans - among other methods. In between worlds, where time and space do not exist, resides magic. Pure, unadulterated magic. The only reason magical worlds have magic in them is because it somehow found a way to leak into them from this limbo. That's why magical realms can be reached from other magical worlds: there already is a path between them, the one that magic took to get there." He paused, looking unusually solemn and sincere. "But the diamond - being so powerful an artefact - used a lot of magic, and in doing so disturbed the layers of magic between that world and all the others. I believe the diamond acted like a magnet: its purpose was to destroy magic, to make it vanish. To do so, I believe it sucked out all of the magic around it, including from outside this world. Such a disturbance would have altered the paths set up between all the realms - both magical and non-magical. We, much to our surprise and displeasure, seem to have taken one of these usurped passages and landed in a world where quite possibly no-one has ever been magically transported to before."

He fell silent, and still his companions stared at him.

Emma suddenly remembered something: this was what she had sensed Gold had been lying about, earlier up in the tree.

"How long have you known about this?" she asked him quietly. She would know if he lied.

Gold looked at her, faintly amused.

"About an hour, Miss Swan. From the minute I gained consciousness, in fact. Like I said: it is only a theory. But I must say I don't see what else could have caused this."

Emma looked at him levelly, her subconscious telling her he was telling the truth. She nodded, and suddenly found there was nothing she could say.

Regina found something, though. She looked as though salvation had come upon her, and her eyes were shining with hope again.

"Does this mean there's a chance Greg, Tamara and Henry came through too?"

Everyone turned to her, incredulous. Yet, Emma, realized slowly, that would make sense. Greg and that vicious murderess had actually left a bit earlier than they had, so there was every chance they had landed here. She saw the others' eyes widen as well, as they came to the same conclusion.

"The worlds," Emma said urgently, looking at Gold. "Once they'd been moved because of that diamond, do they continue to move around?"

Gold looked surprised, then thoughtful as he understood what Emma was hoping for.

"Why, no, Miss Swan. I believe they don't. It takes an enormous amount of magic to just shift them, let alone keep them rotating continuously."

Emma stared.

"Then they should be here, too" she breathed, a wide smile splitting her face. "they have to be!"

She looked up at her parents, who were grinning as well. Regina was smiling too, and even Hook didn't look as uncaring as usual.

Regina's smile was the first to fade.

"But we're still stuck in a world we've never heard of. And it still doesn't tell us how we're going to get him back." she pointed out.

Emma straightened herself up and faced her companions directly, her eyes as hard and determined as steel.

"Oh, we will." she assured her quietly, dangerously. "I promise you we will. I meant what I said earlier: I'd track them to Hell if I have to. And I will"

With that, she turned her back on them, and started making her way down the hill. The others glanced at each other, shrugged, and followed; What else could they do but start searching?


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 - A party of some significance**

**Author's note:** **Wow! I really didn't expect that much feedback from readers! I'm very glad you all like it, considering this is only my second fanfic.**

**Dreamflower02, you will get the answer to your questions in this chapter (although you're right, I should have considered the size of the tree more carefully - thanks = )) and ****k15jensen, you have gotten your wish!**

**Thank you all so much for your reviews! And although I'd like to thank guest reviewers in name, your comments were more than greatly appreciated!**

**Anyway, on with the story:**

As the motley group of rescuers tramped down the hill, the sun lowered itself over the pretty little hills around them, and the light faded to a smooth and peaceful glow.

Smooth and peaceful, however, was exactly the opposite of what Emma was feeling at the moment. Her stomach churned at the thought of her son; where was he? What had Greg and Tamara done to him? Was he even _with_ them? He's a resourceful kid, Emma thought proudly, maybe he'd managed to escape. This tiny little glimmer of hope that flared brightly within her was almost immediately extinguished. The more rational part of her, the part that had been hardened and beaten by the trials of her past was catching up with her thoughts. _Don't get your hopes up; don't risk being disappointed, not again..._

Eventually, they reached the bottom of said hill, and made their way over a couple of hedges (Gold still stubbornly refusing any help) to a little river running east.

Emma, unsure of where to go next, looked to her parents for (she was almost ashamed to think it, she had always managed on her own) guidance. Mary-Margaret smiled and nodded at her reassuringly.

"If we follow the course of the river, we're bound to come across some sort of civilization soon." she said.

The others, who had heard of her experience as an outcast and of her survival in the woods, didn't argue, they all nodded and made to continue walking. All, except Regina. She stopped dead in her tracks and raised a sceptic eyebrow.

"Civilization? Why would we want to find other people here? Wouldn't we be better off by ourselves and not attract attention? And what makes you think this area is even inhabited?"

Mary-Margaret looked at her almost pityingly.

"Regina, if we find other people, we can ask them if they've seen Greg and Tamara and Henry. We have no food, and very few weapons - we need some." she said patiently.

"And as for how we know there are people here," added David, "these hills are clearly fields, limited by hedges shaped by people. There are also tracks that weren't made by animals."

Regina nodded curtly. And although her face remained expressionless, Emma sensed that she was embarrassed by her lack of knowledge of such things. She surprised even herself by speaking up for the former queen.

"Regina has a point." she mused, "We don't want to attract too much attention to ourselves - we'd make it easier for Greg and Tamara to find us - or at least know where we are."

Hook nodded. "We should be careful about what we reveal. Maybe also only appear in twos or threes. Stay inconspicuous."

"Oh, that should be easily done" Gold said dryly. "Six total strangers, no doubt dressed strangely, one of them a one-handed pirate, and all of them talking about magic. Should fit right in."

Hook threw him possibly the dirtiest look that could exist, but said nothing, though his hook was twitching longingly.

Sensing the tension, Emma quickly intervened.

"All right," she said sharply, "all right, girls, calm down. We're all in this together, remember? Let's just...let's just do what Mary-Margaret said and follow the river, okay? If we meet anyone, we can work out what to do when the time comes."

With that matter settled, the strange group of allies set off again, heading for the woods the river apparently ran through.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

Hook cursed as a branch hit him, unawares, for the umpteenth time. They were still walking in the forest, which had steadily grown darker as the hours dragged by. He batted it away irritably, and marched up to Emma, who was leading the way.

"Lass, how long is this going to last? We've been walking for at least four hours, and unless you haven't noticed, night has fallen."

Emma barely spared him a glance.

"Yes, so I can see for myself." she said dryly.

"D'you think we could perhaps consider a rest?"

"Rest?" she said absently.

"Yes, lass. _Rest._"

"Why?"

Hook tripped in disbelief.

"_Why?_ Because we're all tired, that's bloody well why!"

"I don't hear anyone else complaining."

Hook sighed in exasperation.

"Look behind you, princess."

Emma, albeit reluctantly, did so. She saw a stumbling Snow grey with exhaustion, whom David was guiding through the mass of brambles and roots that covered the ground, although he also had lines of strain at the corners of his mouth. Behind them, clutching at trees, stumbled Gold. The hand that held his cane was trembling, and he was visibly drained as well. Regina was walking closely behind him, and although her face was determinedly expressionless, Emma could see she was pretty tired too. Finally, Emma looked at Hook, and she noticed the paleness of his face and the way he was still holding his ribs. Admittedly, Emma was feeling the many miles they had trekked starting to take over her own body, too.

She hesitated; the longer they tarried, the further Henry could be getting away from them. But then they were all visibly exhausted, and they didn't even know where Henry was anyway...

Emma sank down onto a root, holding her head in her hands, which was still throbbing slightly. Snow came over too and put an arm around her, resting her head on her daughter's shoulder. Everyone else settled down onto the leafy ground, so exhausted and so grateful for rest that no-one bothered to complain to Emma how long she had kept them walking for. They all rested in silence, savouring the blessed feeling of stretching their legs on soft ground. Then -

"Is it just me, or is there music playing somewhere?" asked David.

Emma looked up, as did all the others. She strained her ears...and...yes...that certainly sounded like music! It was faint, but she could definitely hear it now that someone mentioned it.

Tiredness and sore limbs suddenly forgotten, they got up as one and followed the sound of the music. It was still quite faint, and they had to walk for ten minutes before they could even make out what kind of music it was. As it turned out, it sounded like fiddles and flutes, accompanied by clapping, and it was getting louder by the second now. They walked on feverishly, eager to at last see someone in this new world. All thoughts of discretion and reserve gone now, guided as they were by their hunger, tiredness, and natural instinct of human contact.

Suddenly, they burst out of the woods, and found themselves on the edge of a large clearing, and - from what they could see in the dark - amid lots of little hills. They stopped dead in their tracks. In the centre of the clearing stood a large tree, from which hung hundreds of little lights, and around the tree was what appeared to be a party of some significance. Dozens of canvas tents were scattered around the tree, and a large grassy area was covered with dancing people. There were a couple of bangs, and suddenly a shower of red and gold sparks shot up into the sky. The music they had heard came from a group of people that were playing on the edge of the dancing area.

Predictably, Hook was the first to react.

"Excellent, a party!" he said, rubbing his hands in anticipation, "I could do with some ale, right now. Or rum. Rum's good."

And without further ado he strode down the hill, not even sparing a glance at his companions, who were gawking at him as though he'd gone mad.

Emma and David charged after him.

"Hook!" Emma hissed, "Wait up! What do you think you're doing? We can't just join in the party, what on earth are we supposed to say if someone asks?"

Hook shrugged. "Don't see why not. Look like there are so many people there they won't notice a few more anyway. Besides, I want my rum."

Emma was so busy gaping at the unbelievable pirate that she forgot to continue running after him. David joined her a couple of seconds later.

"I don't _believe_ him," she said in a strangled voice, "I don't. Believe. Him."

By now, the others had caught up with them as well. All were looking rather wistfully at the party - there was sure to be plenty of food and drink there. And some seats.

Snow approached her daughter cautiously.

"Emma," she said gently, "why is it such a bad idea to go and see? We could go and speak to them, ask them if they've seen Greg and Tamara or Henry. Maybe Hook is right, maybe we could just mingle with the people. The best thing we can do is to make contact with them."

Emma was wringing her hands, hesitating. Her desire to find her son as soon as possible was battling with her instinct that told her to stay unseen and as discrete as possible.

"I know," she said miserably, "but I just wish Hook wasn't so...rash."

"We'd find Henry so much sooner if we planned everything carefully instead of just rushing into things and making them up as we go along." said Regina, frowning and shifting her legs irritably (her feet really did quite hurt a lot). "I suggest we make Hook understand that as soon as possible - or we could find ourselves in trouble sooner than we should."

David grinned.

"To be honest, all I want to do right now is get down there and grab something to eat." he said.

Emma smiled and Snow laughed. Regina and Gold remained impassive, but they couldn't entirely hide their eagerness for food either.

Agreed, they descended the hill together and joined Hook, who was already at the bottom of the hill.

They found him stock-still and staring bemusedly at the lively party before them.

The others stared as well, because the party was full of children. Every person they could see was three foot nine at the most, and they could see no adults whatsoever.

"A children's party?" asked Hook in disbelief to nobody in particular. "No chance of getting rum from a gang of runny-nosed squirts." he muttered crossly. He turned to his companions. "Decided to join me, then? _Not_ quite like the festivities of taverns or Tortuga, I can tell you. I say we better find the grown-ups soon, eh? That way we can get information quickly. And rum."

Emma was still looking at the children. Something about them seemed slightly odd. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something was definitely amiss. Some of them seemed to walk and run quite stooped...

"Well, we can always ask the kids where the adults are." she reasoned aloud. "You stay here while I go talk to one."

She approached the nearest child, tapped him on the shoulder, then leaped back as she saw he had the face of an old man. His face was covered with wrinkles and a considerably annoyed expression. His curly hair was - now that she close enough to see clearly - black streaked with silver and white all over.

"Yes?" he asked abruptly, "What is it? Hurry up, I want to get some ale before those greedy Bracegirdles drink it all."

Emma was still reeling from the surprise from seeing an old man that was a head less than her son.

"S...Sorry" she stammered, "Wrong person. I...sorry. Go ahead."

The strange little creature scurried off muttering "Bothered for nothing...Big Folk these days... I ask you..."

As he hurried off, they could see he had abnormally large and hairy feet; larger, in fact, than any grown man's, and pointed ears that peeked out of his masses of curly hair.

Emma turned to her parents, who were looking just as startled as she felt.

"What...Who...What was th-"she began to ask, but was cut off as what felt like a small cannonball knocked her over. She tumbled to the ground, wriggling, trying to get the attacker off her person, but found another strange little dwarf - this one significantly younger - staring back at her.

He scrambled off her, dusting his doublet (that was another strange thing; all the little people seemed to be dressed in some kind of middle-age fashion) and spluttering apologies.

"Begging your pardon, Miss" he said, though not looking at her. He was busy looking around him, as though scared of someone catching him. "Didn't see you there... Wasn't looking... My fault entirely... Sorry..."

Emma groaned in response. Snow helped her up, struggling to keep a straight face. When she was reassured that her daughter wouldn't suffer any permanent damage, she turned back to the little dwarf, who by now had noticed their strange appearance and superior height, and was staring at them curiously.

Before Snow could speak, however, he was on again.

"Oh, are you Big folk? Haven't seen any in the Shire for many years. Of course the only Big person around here's Gandalf. You wouldn't be friends of his, would you? He's _marvellous,_ he is. Amazing fireworks, like magic - but then of course he can do magic, he's a wizard, and - Merry, there you are, come on!" the last bit he had addressed to another curly-haired creature, who was hurrying towards them, carrying a large red package.

"Did you have any cake?" he asked, talking to Emma again. Before she could answer, however, he was off again. "_I_ had some. It was that big strawberry cake, with lots of cream on it. Wonderful stuff, you should try it."

The other little creature had caught up with his friend and interrupted him.

"Pippin! Come on, then, help me with this thing before Gandalf sees us!" he hissed. Only then did he notice Emma and her entourage. He looked as taken aback as Emma had during her first encounter with one of his kind.

Unlike Emma, however, he recovered quickly.

"Hullo!" he exclaimed, "Big Folk are you? What are you doing in the Shire, then? I heard most of your kind keep themselves to themselves. Are you friends with Gandalf?"

This was the second time that question had been fired at her in as many minutes, and Emma was getting steadily more annoyed and confused.

"No," she said shortly, still dusting her hands on her jeans, "We're not. Who is this...Gandalf, anyway? And... Look I'm sorry if this sounds rude, but what exactly are you? A dwarf?" she blurted out, unable to restrain herself any longer.

The second creature grinned, not at all offended.

"I'm a hobbit. My name's Meriadoc Brandybuck, and this is my cousin, Peregrin Took. But everyone calls us Merry and Pippin."

He held out a hand; quite a difficult task, as he needed both hands to hold the massive red parcel he was carrying. Finally, he compromised by thrusting it in his cousin's arms, and Emma shook his hand, feeling awkward (he was the height of a five-year-old child for God's sake!).

"I'm Emma... Emma Swan. This is Mary-Margaret, and David."

"And I'm Regina, this is Hook, and here's Gold." interjected the queen, who was approaching the little group with the two arch-enemies behind her.

Emma rounded on her. "What are you doing?"

"Thought we'd come and join the conversation, love." Hook said brightly. "Bushes and crocodiles hardly make good conversationalists, you know."

Emma rolled her eyes and turned back to the hobbit.

"We're... We're not exactly from here, could you tell us...?"

Merry chuckled.

"Oh, I can see you're not from here, all right. The nearest village of men is Bree, and that's a few days' journey away. Anyway, this is the Shire, and you're in Hobbiton, the main town."

Emma blinked. None of that information sounded familiar. But then they were in a different world after all.

"Okay. Um... Thanks. And...er, what...world is this?" she asked uncertainly. She immediately regretted her choice of words. Who on earth asked what world they were in? _Ah, but then we're not on earth, are we?_

The hobbit looked surprised.

"World?" he repeated, looking puzzled, "Well, Middle-Earth, I suppose. But how did you not know that?" he asked, frowning.

Emma forced a smile.

"Like I said: we're...ah...not from here. And we came here rather...er...unexpectedly."

Merry still looked a bit suspicious, so Mary-Margaret quickly changed the subject.

"Did you mention somebody who was a wizard?"

Merry and Pippin immediately focused on her instead.

"Gandalf? Yes, he's a wizard." answered Pippin, his voice slightly muffled by the parcel. "He's the tall person all in grey, over there. Long beard, pointy hat, big staff."

"Perhaps you should talk to him." said Merry. "He knows all about Middle-Earth. Maybe he can tell you all you need to know."

The six strangers looked over to where he was pointing. Indeed, they now saw the first normal-sized person they had seen yet in Middle-Earth. A very tall, very thin, very old man was standing in the centre of a mass of children, who were squealing at a shower of gold sparks he had just set off. To their surprise and somewhat to their alarm however, he seemed to sense their gaze, and looked over to them. He caught Emma's eye. She immediately had the impression of going through an X-ray, so piercing was his gaze.

He started to stride over to them, and their new hobbit acquaintances jumped in alarm.

"Well, we'll be off, then. Nice meeting you all!" Merry called behind his shoulder as they hurried off, awkwardly carrying the parcel between both of them.

As the man (_"- wizard - Gandalf - whatever"_ thought Emma) approached, the little group looked at each other nervously, each apparently silently asking the other what to do or say.

Gandalf glanced at the retreating hobbits, at Emma's dusty clothes, and finally at the strangers themselves. He took in their different apparel, their tired faces, and Hook's namesake. Hook remained stoic, although in truth the old man's gaze felt unnatural to him.

"I'm sorry for the disturbance." said David diplomatically, his royal training kicking in. "My name is David Nolan. This is Mary-Margaret, my wife, and Emma Swan, Regina Mills, Gold, and..." he stopped, unsure whether to give Hook's real name or his alias.

Hook had no such dilemma.

"_Captain_ Hook. At your service." he said with a slight bow and a smirk.

David was busy rolling his eyes at Hook, so Emma spoke in his stead before Gandalf could notice.

"We truly apologize for intruding on this party, but we really didn't mean to arrive here. We just needed to find someone as soon as possible."

She then proceeded to tell him their story, omitting all the magic from it, and the disasters in Storybrooke, making it sound as though Henry had been kidnapped from another world into this one, and they had followed suite in Hook's ship, hoping to catch up and find him. She also left out the fact that she and Regina sort of shared Henry.

If Gandalf found this story strange, he showed no sign of it. In fact, he was staring at Emma as she told their story, and didn't seem to notice the nervous glances her companions shot at each other at her deliberate omissions.

When she had finished, his gaze shifted to each of her companions in turn, resting the longest on Gold, then on Hook. Both men held his gaze evenly, though Hook was secretly relieved when the old man looked away.

"I sense no deceit in your tale, though you do not tell all." Gandalf said plainly, looking once more at Emma. "Your strange attires and your manner of speech, however, are proof enough. And I must say I have never seen or heard the like; yet I believe to have travelled across this world more so than any other. Where did you say you departed from, milady?"

Slightly taken aback by being addressed to as 'milady', it was a moment before Emma answered. Feeling Hook's smirk behind her, she hurriedly told him. "North America, Maine. Storybrooke" she clarified.

Gandalf looked thoughtful.

"Hmmm..." he mused, tapping his pipe against his teeth. "I have heard of neither. But it is quite clear that you are not from here, however. I would suggest not leaving the county of the Shire, it can be considerably dangerous, especially these days."

Before she could answer though, he spoke again.

"Come," he said warmly "let me not speak of dark tidings. This party is to celebrate the one-hundred-and-eleventh birthday of my good friend, Bilbo Baggins, and the thirty-third of his nephew, Frodo. I am sure they will be more than happy to invite you all to join in the festivities. You will not be able to find your son if you neglect your own needs. Eat, drink, and rest, you all look dead on your feet!"

He chuckled good-naturedly, and waved at them to go enjoy themselves among the other guests.

Hook frowned at the old man's retreating back.

"I don't trust him." he said bluntly.

Emma hesitated. She too was looking at Gandalf as he returned amongst the hobbits. She shrugged.

"He seemed kind enough," she said, "and he did say we could join the party. Anyway, apparently he trusts us enough to do so. That's good enough for me. We're the strangers here, remember? Come on, let's go eat, I'm starving."

Too eager to protest, the others followed, and they all joined Bilbo's guests.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

While Emma, Mary-Margaret and David found that may puzzled glances were directed at them, they were relieved to see that no-one questioned them much. Emma couldn't face telling their story again, anyway.

They soon found seats, and went to help themselves to food. They marvelled at the sheer amount of it: huge trays loaded with meat, cakes the size of tractor-tyres, bowls as big as Jacuzzis overflowing with fruit, barrels taller than David full of ale.

They sat down with their plates, and soon found themselves immersed in a conversation with curious hobbits. They fortunately didn't want to talk about the Charmings' whereabouts, though. They seemed fascinated by family history, and were delighted to hear from Emma about the warped family tree they were part of. When Emma told them about Regina being Henry's adoptive mother, her mother's stepmother, and her own step-grandmother, the steadily-growing-larger crowd of hobbits around them gasped and laughed with surprise.

All in all, the hobbits proved to be cheerful and warm company, if a little too food-orientated in Emma's opinion. And apart from one moment when everybody around her seemed to think they were under a dragon attack, the evening was getting rather fun. In fact, she found herself having a very good time while listening to a funny story told by an old hobbit she thought the name of was 'Old Gaffer', something she would have thought impossible only an hour ago, tortured as she was by her desperate search for her son.

As she laughed out loud at the climax of the story, Regina climbed onto the bench to sit beside her. This was unusual, as normally the queen tended to stay as far away from her as possible, except when she wanted her help, or to reprimand her for something. For this reason, Emma looked at her enquiringly, wondering what on earth she was supposed to have done now to deserve another berating.

Regina leaned in.

"It seems we have a problem, Miss Swan." she said in a low voice.

"Why, what's wrong?" Emma asked, slightly alarmed.

"Hook."

"What's the matter with him?"

Regina indicated towards the dance floor with her head.

Emma looked, and immediately choked on her drink.

Hook was dancing in the middle of a ring of pretty little hobbit maidens, all laughing and dancing around him. Emma wasn't sure whether to laugh or groan. Hook was visibly pissed out of his mind; he was waving his arms above his head, stumbling uncertainly in the centre of the circle. He had a mug of beer in his hand, and his hook was waving about rather dangerously. As the music reached its end, he took a wobbly bow, and in doing so tipped all his ale over a middle-aged hobbit woman, who was so busy laughing she didn't seem to notice. As the group of giggling girls scattered away, he stumbled once again, but this time he fell facedown onto the ground.

Emma nudged David and pointed at Hook. Her father rolled his eyes, but climbed off the bench and went with Emma to pick him off the ground. Together, they hauled him up and half-dragged, half-frog-marched him across the dancing green over to their table. They managed to sit him on the edge of a bench (Regina pointedly slid over to the other side), and he collapsed onto the table, laying there like a huge black spider with a particularly sharp and shiny pincer.

Out of breath from hauling Hook halfway across a field, Emma looked around for Mary-Margaret, vaguely wondering what she would have to say about this. She found her amid a group of chattering hobbit women, laughing and smiling at something in her arms. As Emma looked more closely, she saw that the thing inside Mary-Margaret's arms was a baby. A tiny, curly-haired hobbit baby. Emma moved a little closer, and she noticed that the infant was only slightly larger than her mother's hand. Feeling as though she walking in on a rather intimate scene, Emma stayed where she was, not wanting to disturb her friend. Mary-Margaret, however, had no such qualms; she looked up, grinned, and waved her daughter over.

"Look at her!" she breathed when her daughter joined her. "Isn't she _adorable_?"

Emma considered the minute infant. She had masses of curly black hair, large blue eyes, and a tiny button nose. The little girl smiled at Emma and gurgled, enjoying all the attention.

"Yeah," said Emma, trying to sound enthusiastic, "Yeah, she is..."

Mary-Margaret was radiant with happiness, laughing, smiling and cooing at the child as though she were her own.

Emma felt awkward. Was her friend really thinking what Emma thought she was thinking? Sure, the kid was cute, but Mary-Margaret already had her - a daughter - and Henry. Did she want another child?

Emma was still pondering these strange and unsettling thoughts when she suddenly noticed an increase in the cheers and shouting. She looked up, and saw an old and venerable-looking hobbit climbing onto a barrel, to shouts of encouragement and demands for a speech.

_"This must be Bilbo." _she thought.

The hobbit started his speech. He sounded a warm and overall good-natured fellow, and Emma smiled at the pleasantries at the beginning, though quickly got confused at the less-than-common way he phrased his sentences.

"Tonight I also have the pleasure of having new guests at my party." continued Bilbo. "Strangers from distant lands, who have done me the honour of joining me tonight." A few hobbits who had made acquaintances with the newcomers turned 'round and raised their mugs at Emma and her companions, drinking to their health. "While they have managed to enjoy themselves (and some of them perhaps too much - the hobbits laughed, having seen Hook collapse), I at least have not yet had the pleasure of meeting them." Bilbo went on, smiling and waving at them. More laughter.

Emma grinned. This Bilbo Baggins really knew how to keep a crowd interested.

She quickly became fascinated, however, as the speech took a decidedly different turn. Bilbo was standing stock-still, his hands behind his back as he surveyed the crowd before him. His face, previously full of humour and cheerfulness, was now serious and strained.

"I regret to announce that this is the end." he said, his voice echoing across the now silent party field. "I'm leaving now. I bid you all a very fond farewell. Goodbye."

And he vanished into thin air.

Emma blinked. How on _earth_ had he managed that?

She looked to her companions. David was looking flabbergasted, Gold as though he knew something they didn't, and Regina was as expressionless as ever. Hook, though, was waving his hand - still holding his now empty mug of beer - at the barrel.

"Goodbye!" he called, chuckling.

"How did that happen?" asked Emma.

Regina shrugged, not looking bothered in the slightest. David shook his head. "No idea."

Gold was still looking at the stage, though with curiosity, unlike David.

"Certainly he used magic." he said thoughtfully.

"What?" Emma said sharply. "I thought we couldn't use magic around here."

"Oh no, Dearie. _We_ cannot. But perhaps the natives have found a way of using it."

He was looking very thoughtful as he said so. Perhaps he was plotting yet another way to get magic back to him.

Emma found that thought to disturbing to think about for the moment, and so turned to the others.

Mary-Margaret was still cooing at the child, looking quite undisturbed at the fact that their host had mysteriously disappeared beneath their very nose. Hook was once more slouching over the table, eyeing his mug of ale as though he was seriously considering getting up to fill it again. This proved to be another failure, however, as he toppled right over again as soon as he had gotten to his feet.

Emma sighed and took the mug from him, going to the barrels herself to get ale for him. _At least he'll leave us alone if he's drunk._

When she reached the huge mountain of wooden barrels beneath a large canvas tent she encountered Merry and Pippin. Both had very sooty faces and wearing aprons. Pippin was drying a vast pot with a cloth, while Merry was moodily scrubbing at a stack of plates next to a washtub. They brightened considerably when they saw her arrive.

"Hello again!" Pippin said cheerily. "Did Gandalf manage to help you?"

Emma smiled at him.

"Yep," she said, "sorted a few things out, and all. He's a good guy."

Pippin looked slightly confused.

"Man." she corrected herself. "He's a good man."

Pippin nodded happily and went back to his dish, prattling on about how wonderful Gandalf and his fireworks were. Merry was muttering darkly to himself about all the things he'd like to do to Gandalf; preferably with the scrubbing brush he was holding, although the heavy fire-stoker had its merits too.

Emma was only half-listening, she'd just seen something of interest. Beyond the tent, on top of a little hill were patches of light that Emma saw were windows. Behind the windows were two silhouettes that kept moving in and out the light. One of them was remarkably tall, and the other rather stout and old-looking...

She excused herself from the two chattering hobbits, and went to investigate. She left the party field, and went up a small flight of stone stairs to a curious-looking little house that looked like it had been dug from inside the hill itself. As she approached the neat little garden in front of it, the front door opened, and out came Bilbo. He was dressed differently from what he had been wearing at the party, and was carrying a large rucksack and a walking stick. She retreated a little into the shadows, not wanting to look like she was eavesdropping. She saw Bilbo pause and turn around to face Gandalf. The two silhouettes, one so tall and the other so small, exchanged a few words and embraced. Bilbo walked out of his home and followed the path down. As he approached the area Emma was standing, she heard him humming slightly to himself.

He noticed her as she moved forwards, and she could see he recognised her from the party. He smiled at her, raised his hand as though in farewell, and walked passed her into the night.

Emma wanted to call, run after him, but found herself rooted to the spot. Instead, she went up the rest of the path, and entered the garden. It was very pretty, even at nighttime. Bilbo obviously liked flowers and plants.

As she made to cross the threshold, something on the floor caught her eye.

A small golden ring was lying there, as though abandoned. It was a plain, bright gold band, but it caught the firelight so clearly that it made Emma stare at it longer than she normally would have at a piece of jewellery. In fact, the longer she looked at it, the more beautiful it seemed to become. She reached out to it, wanting to touch it, to see if it really was as beautiful up close...

"That ring does not belong to you, and I hope to the Valar that it never does." said a gruff voice.

Emma jumped and looked around. Gandalf was sitting at the fireplace, his back to her, slightly clouded from her sight by a veil of smoke.

"No," she stammered, "no, of course not... I didn't mean to... I'm sorry, I..."

Gandalf turned to her.

His eyes really were very piercing, Emma thought as the old man surveyed her.

His beard twitched, and she saw that he was smiling gently.

"I have told Bilbo about your situation, and you and your companions are welcome to stay here at Bag End." he said kindly. "There's plenty of space for all of you here, and I daresay Frodo will be interested to meet you. However, I would suggest keeping your extraordinary story to yourselves for the time being. Bilbo is gone now, but Frodo is here, and he knows of your tale."

Emma nodded, wanting to thank him for all the hospitality he and Bilbo had shown them, but found her tongue tied under his piercing gaze. He seemed to understand though, and he smiled again.

Suddenly, Emma heard her name being called. She turned, and saw her parents in the distance, evidently looking and calling out for her.

She excused herself for the second time in five minutes, and went to join her companions.

She found her parents in an agitated state. They looked intensely relieved when they saw her, and immediately went over to her.

Snow got there first, and grabbed her daughter's arms.

"Emma, don't you _ever_ do that to us again." she cried fiercely. "Do you realize what we've just been through? You disappeared and nobody saw you go; I thought you'd been taken as well!"

With that, she pulled her close so tightly Emma was beginning to fight for breath.

"Don't make me lose you again." her mother whispered, still hugging her.

Completely nonplussed by her reaction, Emma gently disengaged herself from Mary-Margaret's grip.

"Hey, hey," she said consolingly, "don't worry about me okay? I'm a big girl, I can manage. And I was only gone five minutes anyway; the most that could have happened to me in this place is get run over by a horde of hungry hobbits."

Mary-Margaret smiled, still slightly shaken.

Unfortunately, Hook chose that moment to march uncertainly over to Emma, waggling a beer-mug in her face.

"Hey, lass." he crowed "Where's my beer?"

He staggered into her, knocking her off her feet and onto the ground. This was the second time she had been knocked over by someone in one evening, and Emma was starting to get seriously annoyed. Not to mention bruised, dusty and tired. She wriggled underneath the drunk pirate.

"Gerroff me, Hook!" she shouted in a muffled voice, fighting ferociously under his weight.

She got a rumbling snore for a response.

Nearing rage now, Emma summoned a single burst of strength and shoved him off her body. Breathing heavily and dusting herself off, Emma got up and glared furiously at her parents, who were doubled up laughing.

"Thanks for your help." she said acidly, sarcasm almost literally dripping off her tongue.

David grinned at her.

"You handled it fine by yourself." he said, putting a fond arm around her. "Big Girl indeed. I really don't fancy being Hook to wake up later and discover that you floored him yet again."

Still chuckling, he lead his family over to Gold and Regina, who were still at their table.

Emma informed them of the sleeping arrangements Gandalf had arranged for them, and they set off for Bag End, as they were by now literally drooping with exhaustion.

"What about Hook?" asked Mary-Margaret, ever the soft-hearted one. Everybody glanced at Hook's spread-eagled sleeping form on the grass.

"Who?" Emma asked with a smirk.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 - Bag End**

**Author's note:** **Just as a little clarification, I'm writing this story as a combination of both book and movie-verse. However, any scenes from the movie I cannot promise will be exactly the same, dialogue-wise (otherwise it would just get boring). I will of course stay as loyal as possible to the story, but the events won't be word-for-word what happens in the books/movies**

**Thank you to my lovely now-regular reviewer, JenniferHare22, for her continued support, and to all those wonderful people who decided to favourite and/or follow this story. (But said wonderful people would become even more so if they dropped in a little comment... ; ) pretty please?)**

**Here you go, then:**

Later that evening, introductions between the party from Storybrooke and Frodo were made. Frodo was much younger than his uncle, and his dark curls and large blue eyes reminded Emma of the baby Mary-Margaret had been cuddling. He seemed a nice hobbit overall, although he looked a little distracted during the whole process of introductions. Emma suspected it had something to do with Bilbo's departure and the ring she had seen earlier: she had spotted Gandalf speaking quickly and urgently to Frodo just before he had left.

Frodo proved to be a generous and kind host; he easily found room for all his visitors without the slightest show of reluctance or surprise. Although he certainly noticed Hook's piratical appearance and weapon, Emma's and Mary-Margaret's wearing of trousers, and the continuous enmity between Hook and Gold he made no comment, and the six were grateful for that.

Emma and Regina were sharing a room (much to both their displeasure - but they didn't say anything in front of Frodo), whilst Mary-Margaret and David shared another, and both Hook and Gold had their own rooms. This did not prove inconvenient in the slightest though, as all rooms were obviously hobbit-sized, thus took relatively little space, and there were many other rooms in Bag End anyway.

Emma was so exhausted she only removed her jacket and boots before climbing into bed. The bed was surprisingly large, and she found she could quite easily stretch her legs out as she usually did. This was a relief, as the room, although very cosy, was rather cramped; Emma had to crouch to look out of the window and kneel to look into a tiny mirror over a wash basin no larger than a soup bowl.

Regina was extremely tired as well, that much Emma's drained mind could deduce, as she did not say anything to her roommate, unpleasant or otherwise. As soon as Emma's head hit the pillow she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. It seemed passing through a portal, walking for hours and enjoying one's self at a party for a whole evening really knocked a person out, despite having lost one's son mere hours previously.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Ten hours later, Emma opened her eyes to a ray of sunlight shining on her face. For a moment, she didn't know where she was. Then, as she turned her head and spotted Regina still sleeping in her own bed at the other side of the room, everything came back to her in a rush. Henry's kidnap, the portal, Middle-Earth, the party, that ring...

Judging by the quality of the light streaming through the tiny window, it was late morning; somewhere between ten and eleven, Emma estimated.

Embarrassed at having stayed in bed for so long, Emma threw back the covers and got up. She dressed quickly, then padded out of the bedroom, careful not to wake Regina. She made her way to the main living room (because there were apparently quite a few in Bag End), though not without getting lost a couple of times. When she finally reached it, it was to find her parents sitting at a wooden table, which was laden with the likes of breakfast Emma could not have imagined possible, let alone seen before.

There were about 30 slices of thick bacon which smelled quite heavenly, a dozen red plump tomatoes, an omelette made by with at least two dozen eggs, a whole dish full of cooked mushrooms, a wedding-cake sized jelly, five thick loaves of white bread and to go with them, about any flavour of jam you could think of. **(****Author's note:**** My little sister insisted on naming all the different kinds of jams, so here you are: strawberry, cherry, blueberry, cranberry, blackberry, gooseberry, raspberry, apricot, plum, peach, nectarine, orange, lemon, lime, rhubarb, pear, pineapple, kiwi... And apparently, many, many more.)**

Emma sat down to this extraordinary selection of breakfast delicacies, awed by the sheer amount of it. She caught Mary-Margaret's eye.

"Impressive, isn't it?" her mother said, laughing. "Personally, I don't feel hungry enough to eat even one of those tomatoes, not after last night."

Emma was about to reply, but was cut off by Frodo's entrance into the room. He glanced at her.

"Ah, good, you're awake." he said. "I must say, you slept a lot. Though I suppose that's hardly surprising. You looked exhausted yesterday."

He was riffling through all sorts of papers and objects as he said this. Then he looked up and saw that Emma and her parents weren't eating.

"Well, you lot don't seem very hungry. I'd have thought you would be, as you already missed first breakfast."

Emma exchanged a bemused glance with her parents.

"You mean you eat _more_ than one breakfast?" asked Emma somewhat worriedly. She hoped etiquette didn't mean she would have to eat as much as hobbits did, else she'd be obese by the end of the week.

Frodo chuckled.

"Ah, yes; I'd forgotten Big Folk didn't eat as much as hobbits do. Don't worry, you don't have to eat if you don't wish to." he said kindly. "Although I cannot _wait_ to see Pippin's face when he finds out you eat less than six courses a day." he added with another chuckle.

Emma grinned.

"Something tells me that he and Henry would get along really well together. He easily eats hot dogs and ice creams between meals."

"Oh, so that's what you've been doing with him, Miss Swan? Now I'll know where he gets those habits from." said Regina, who had just entered the room.

Frowning, Emma turned back to her breakfast. Frodo looked slightly confused, probably trying to figure out what 'hot dogs' and 'ice creams' were.

All in all, after an enormous breakfast and a whispered fight with Regina, Emma decided to explore the place. Not Bag End, for she had a feeling she'd already discovered most of it this morning whilst wandering around trying to find the living room. But she rather wanted to see what the hills surrounding it could possibly be like. After all, it wasn't often one got to meet a people that lived underground in cosy little burrows, so she set off shortly afterwards to explore on her own.

As it turned out, the Shire was nothing short of paradise. Emma wasn't a great fan of nature, nor did she care much about the beauty of landscape, but even she could see that this place was as close to perfect as it could get. The grass was emerald green, the sky was a deep, forget-me-not blue, and the sun was bright and warm. She ambled about vaguely, listening to birdsongs and observing what other hobbits were doing, though was careful not to stare too much. She didn't know much about the code of conduct here, and didn't want to accidentally offend someone.

The Shire was strange as well as beautiful, because Emma could see many similarities with Storybrooke, her home for the last year. All the citizens greeted each other cheerily, all were going somewhere with a purpose, and everyone seemed happy enough as far as she could tell.

And yet, there were many differences Emma couldn't help but notice. Obviously, the lack of electricity and running water were two major factors, but also small details like the care-free feeling everyone seemed to radiate, and the easy way the hobbits appeared to deal with one another. Emma noticed, for instance, a young hobbit strolling over to a fruit and cake stall, look the goods over, take his pick, chatted with the stall-keeper, and walked away without paying. The most astonishing thing, in Emma's opinion, was that the stall-keeper waved him off with a smile and a cheery farewell.

She wandered on for about an hour more, before she came upon Merry and Pippin again. They were lying down on the grass, smoking from long thin pipes, and making shapes out of the clouds. Emma heard them arguing about a certain shape Pippin thought he'd seen.

"It _can't _have been, Pip."

"Yes, it was."

"No, it wasn't."

"Yes, it _was_."

"You're telling me, that that cloud over there, the one next to the smiling frog and under the horse on a rocking chair is a dragon picking its nose?"

There was a pause.

"Well, obviously the shape's shifted now." came Pippin's voice, sounding slightly annoyed. "You took so long to believe me that the wind's blown them away now."

Merry chuckled, and Emma came into their view. They called out greetings to her, inquiring about her night's rest, asking about Gandalf, and wanting to know if she'd had any cake after all.

Emma sat down with them and chatted for a while. As Frodo had predicted, Pippin's jaw fell open lower than she would have thought possible when she told him that humans didn't actually eat six or seven times a day. Laughing at his flabbergasted expression, she assured him, however, that her son seemed to have hobbit blood in him, as he was so hungry all the time. Emma continued to chat with the hobbits. She would later find it disconcerting how easy it had been to simply relax in the sun with her two new acquaintances, when she really should have been devoting every minute of every hour to finding Henry.

Finally, when the sun was getting near the centre of the sky, Emma took her leave from the hobbits and made her way back to Bag End. Estimating that climbing over a certain hill would serve as a shortcut, she began to walk up it. The hill was steep, and she was pretty soon out of breath. She stumbled on, a stitch in her side, keeping her gaze fixed on the ground before her feet. Then she literally bumped into someone she had no desire whatsoever to see.

Hook was standing on the summit of the hill she'd been climbing, staring over the hills surrounding them through that spyglass of his. He jerked forward when Emma bumped into him and turned around angrily, but smirked when he noticed who she was and how dishevelled and out-of-breath she was. She glared at him, but couldn't speak, because her lungs were still desperately screaming that they were empty.

"Really, Swan." he smirked. "You should think about getting fit. Nobody would get that breathless after climbing a hill... Unless of course they saw me on top of it." he finished with a suggestive wink.

"Oh, that's...a bit rich...coming from a guy...who was so drunk...he couldn't walk last night." she gasped, furious.

Hook shrugged and put his spyglass back to his eye, looking once more to the hills. Emma noticed he was looking in the general direction they had come from the day before. She also noticed his pale face and indigo shadows under his eyes. No doubt he was also suffering from a thumping headache now, too. She stood still for a minute, concentrating on getting her breathing even again.

"You know," she said quietly when she finally had, "those two hobbits said Gandalf was a wizard. Maybe we could ask him to get the _Jolly Roger _down."

Hook didn't say anything, but Emma sensed it was because he was thinking. She also guessed the reason for his prolonged analysis of the suggestion.

"The magic here is different, Hook." she said. "Needing it and using it won't make you like Gold."

Hook still stayed silent for a while. So much so that Emma started making her way down the hill again, towards Bag End.

"I swore to myself I would never use it." he said suddenly. Emma turned again to face him. "When Milah died, I swore that to myself. Magic had killed her. Magic is the signature of Rumplestiltskin. And I will never use it."

Emma stared at him, but he kept his gaze away from her. Suddenly, he strode down the hill as well, bypassing her. Emma stood still for a moment, thinking about what he had just said.

When she thought about it, every magical thing that she knew had happened to Hook since Milah's death was either because of someone else, or not strictly magic at all. The beans were made and cultivated by the giants, not Rumplestiltskin. The hook had been enchanted to remove hearts by Regina, against his will. The dagger he had wanted to kill Gold with, he did not use it. The cuff had been given to him by Cora, to get to the compass. He'd never had a say or a choice over them. It had always been others' decisions.

Slightly troubled by this notion, although she could not explain why, Emma made her way down too. She walked back to Bag End, but by the time she had arrived there, only one question was revolving in her mind: why had Hook chosen to confide in _her_?

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The party from Storybrooke held a meeting that afternoon, in one of Bilbo's (well, Frodo's, now) many sitting rooms. After many heated arguments from both sides (Emma and Regina were for once united in their wish to find Henry as soon as possible, whereas the others were taking more of a practical view of the situation, and were trying to reason with them), they at last decided on staying at Bag End until they had any wind of anything strange, or indeed, Greg and Tamara. The theory was, Henry and his captors could be anywhere at the moment, and, judging by the maps Hook had been studying that morning, Middle-earth was a huge place. Bigger, in fact, North America! So how on earth were they supposed to find Henry by just walking around and asking questions? In the end, both Regina and Emma agreed that setting off in the wild wasn't very clever, especially as they knew nothing about this world.

And so it was decided. The six strangers from Storybrooke, Maine now were settling down (some more reluctantly than others) for their stay in Bag End. Frodo had very kindly once again assured them that they were welcome for as long as they liked, and put his foot down on their protests by saying that he was far from refusing company now that Bilbo had gone, anyway.

Bag End, as it turned out, was far from uneventful, even though it did seem quaint and repetitive to the six at first. Each of them found things to do every day, whether worthwhile or simply for the fun of them.

Emma, for instance, found herself enjoying the company of Merry and Pippin more and more. She realized it was no use worrying fruitlessly about Henry, and so she decided to let go of her fear for a while. And though Henry was constantly on her mind, it was more with a sense of longing than actual worry or fear. She sometimes despised herself for not worrying more, but then would later think that Greg and Tamara had no reason she knew of to harm Henry, so why should she worry? And so, she often spent her mornings with Merry and Pippin, either exploring the woods with them, playing pranks on unsuspecting hobbits (and on one memorable occasion, Hook), or enduring cooking lessons; Merry and Pippin had introduced her to another hobbit called Samwise Gamgee, and all three of them had been astounded to learn that she had very few cooking skills, and so they immediately got to teaching her all they knew. Sam especially was proud to show off his knowledge, and Emma, being rather fond of them and finding it all quite amusing, let them teach her.

It soon seemed that her only worry was the daily challenge of getting dressed without having to call for aid. The hobbit seamstresses had very kindly made human-sized dresses for Snow, Emma and Regina. Emma - being by far the most inexperienced in these matters - often had to resort to calling Mary-Margaret for help when dressing, her corset, stockings and drawers making no sense whatsoever to her.

Cooking lessons and dresses put aside, Emma's favourite activity by far was planning complicated but fun and rather satisfying stratagems whose aim was to dissuade unwanted visitors at Bag-End from pestering Frodo. Surprisingly, she found that Hook was a well-appreciated partner in said activity, and they were soon working together to drive old Tooks and infuriating Proudfoots out of Frodo's garden. On one such occasion, it took the persuasion of Hook's sword and an upturned bucket of cow muck (courtesy of Emma) to convince a particularly annoying Sackville-Baggins couple to go away. Emma's sides still ached the next day from having laughed so much.

Hook could usually be found either in the chart room, pouring over maps and books, or else sitting on the hill where Emma had bumped into him, staring into the distance, trying to get a glimpse of his beloved ship.

Gold, as a former peasant, surprised his companions by volunteering to work alongside the hobbits, spinning straw and wool into rope and yarn. This was unusual behaviour for him, as doing something for people for free was about as frequent in his life as flying pigs were.

Snow and her prince were using most of their spare time to spend quality time with each other, as lately life in Storybrooke had been more than just a little eventful. They hadn't managed to get much time on their own since Snow's return from the Enchanted Forest, either. And when Mary-Margaret and David weren't walking around the Shire together, talking in Bilbo's library, or chatting with other hobbits, Mary-Margaret would be with the baby she had been holding in her arms during the party. Little Rain - or Blue, as Emma had nicknamed her - was Mary-Margaret's pride and joy during those couple of weeks after the party. Rain was the eleventh child in her family, and her mother understandably had little time to look after her smallest daughter, and was therefore more than happy to let Mary-Margaret play with and tend to her.

As for Regina, she gradually shed her mask of cold unconcern, and began to participate in everyday life alongside their hosts. She was usually seen in Bilbo's garden, tending to flowers, pruning bushes and blossoming shrubs, and occasionally weeding patches of earth. She also made a habit out of reading stories to hobbit children, who seemed to find her fascinating. There was often a crowd of the little creatures around her, begging her to tell them more stories. Emma watched this, and was secretly impressed. Regina had promised Henry to be a better mother, and she was evidently trying to live up to her word. Regina's companions watched as her coldness melted away, to be replaced by more and more frequent smiles and gestures of affection to the hobbit children. Somewhat to their dismay, however, she remained pretty much her usual self around them; she was never directly disagreeable now, but always formal, and never showed any emotion when in their company.

Emma found this new Regina slightly more worrying than the former, unpleasant, superior and manipulative Regina they had known in Storybrooke. She felt the queen was shutting herself from any emotion, to prevent herself from being disappointed ever again. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, Emma immediately realized with a jolt of shock that this had been her exact behaviour during all those years between Neal's 'betrayal' and her meeting of Henry for the first time. She resolved to be nothing but pleasant and encouraging to the queen from now on.

She couldn't quite believe what she was trying to do; this was Regina, the source of all their problems since years ago, and yet Emma was going to try and get her out of her infernal-cycle behaviour. The world upside down.

Thus did the small company spend three weeks in the sunny, seemingly ever-green Shire. The few hints at danger that Gandalf had made at the party had quite left their minds.

On one warm evening, however, things took a dramatically different turn.

Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin, along with Hook and David, had gone down to the Green Dragon for drinks. The women opted to stay at Bag End, Mary-Margaret especially disapproving of this outing. Emma said nothing, because she secretly wished for a drink as well, but knew better than to say so in front of her own mother. Regina had nodded vaguely when she was informed of their companions' excursion, and not glanced up from the book she was reading. All three were sitting in the library in - for once - amiable silence.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Later that night Frodo and Sam were walking back to Bag End. Sam was fuming because Hook had been chatting up Rosie Cotton, and the pirate was now trying to wheedle a kiss out of her. Sam looked back jealously.

"Oi, mind who you're sweet-talking." he muttered.

Frodo nudged his friend comfortingly.

"Don't worry, Sam." he said. "Rosie knows an idiot when she sees one."

Sam looked hopeful.

"Does she?"

Suppressing a grin, Frodo nodded and clapped him on the back in farewell as they reached Bag End.

Frodo entered his house without much on his mind, apart maybe from congratulating Regina on the state of the garden; if it had been pretty when the company arrived, it was now nothing short of perfect. The queen had clearly put all of her efforts into it.

He vaguely registered that the lights were out. _Perhaps the others have already gone to bed,_ he thought.

Suddenly, a hand grasped his shoulder. Leaping around, it took Frodo a second to recognise Gandalf. His hair was lank and unkempt, and there was a look of urgency on his lined features.

"Is it secret?" he demanded in a hushed voice. "Is it safe?"

0o0o0o0o0o0

Emma stretched and yawned. She got up, intending to stretch her legs. There was only so long one could sit there reading, especially by candlelight.

She left her two reading companions in the library and made her way to the living room. This took her considerably less time, now; after three weeks here, Emma had mastered the twists and turns of Bag End. She was about to go past the hall when she heard voices, hushed and low, coming from the kitchen. Hesitating, Emma stayed rooted to the spot; Frodo had shown them every kindness and hospitality. Eavesdropping and listening behind doors in his own house seemed a pretty poor way of repaying him. Suddenly, one of the voices rose in volume; it sounded scared.

Frowning in curiosity, Emma crept to the doorway of the room, the burning feeling that she was onto something bubbling away in her stomach.

Emma listened to the voices, recognizing those of Frodo and... Gandalf? How come Gandalf was here?

All thoughts of walking away unnoticed to give Frodo and his guest privacy now gone, Emma pressed her ear to the door as tightly as she could without moving it or making a sound.

0o0o0o0o0o0

"Where've you been?" asked Frodo, pouring steaming tea for his friend.

"Many places." answered Gandalf. "But on this journey only to Gondor, to the city of Minas Tirith. There I found letters and papers written long ago- one written by Isildur himself."

"Isildur!" said Frodo. "The son of Elendil?"

"Indeed. Heir to the throne of Gondor during the battle of the last Alliance, before his father Elendil was killed by Sauron himself." Gandalf took a deep breath, ignoring Frodo's look of bemusement at the mention of the ancient Dark Lord. "In these documents, Isildur wrote about a something that was created by Sauron. The object itself was a simple golden ring, but this ring was much more than it appeared to be. The Dark Lord poured a great amount of himself into this ring: his cruelty, his malice, and his will to dominate all forms of life. And through it he would control all of the other Great Rings - thus their rulers, and so take over Middle-earth. But during the Battle of the Last Alliance, Isildur cut the ring off his finger and so cut Sauron off from his major source of power, and ending the war that had gone on for so long and cost so many lives. This war, however, was only ended for a time."

"Isildur should have destroyed the ring - thus ended Sauron's existence for ever. But the hearts of Men are easily corrupted. The evil that the ring contains and controls - although it was supposed to have been annihilated - is still alive and gaining power every day. While the Dark Lord is still vulnerable, he has a great number of resources and is strengthening his defences. This ring - the One Ring- was lost; Isildur was ambushed while riding up North, and the ring passed out of all knowledge. I fear it has been found again- and is now in your possession." Gandalf paused. "If Sauron regains this ring, Middle-Earth will fall to his will."

Frodo had listened to this nightmarish revelation in silence, too aghast to say anything. He was silent still for a long while as he absorbed the information. He seemed to be struggling to find an argument against Gandalf's theory. At last, it transpired, he found one.

"How do you know that Bilbo's ring- my ring- is Sauron's?"

"That remained an uncertainty for a long time in my mind, for I was wishing with all my heart that it could not be so. However, it became clear to me at last as I read Isildur's letter." Gandalf paused again, and looked enquiringly at Frodo. "You still have it?"

Frodo nodded and went to a locked chest beside the mantelpiece. He drew out the key, took out the ring, and held it out to his friend uncertainly. "What will you do with it?"

"I? Oh, not I, dear boy. You shall. Throw it into the fire."

Frodo looked at him in astonishment.

"Are you mad? Why burn such a precious, beautiful thing?"

Gandalf frowned. "Already it grows precious to you. It is as I feared." he muttered, as though to himself. He addressed Frodo again. "Don't worry, it won't damage it."

Frodo, with some apparent difficulty, dropped it into the crackling fire. A minute or so later Gandalf gingerly lifted it out with tongs and dropped it in Frodo's hand. Frodo jerked his hand back in surprise, expecting it to get scorched; in fact, it was not heated at all, and lay there serene and innocent on his open palm. He looked at it incredulously and then to Gandalf. Gandalf turned from him, looking troubled.

"Can you see anything?" he asked.

Frodo examined the fat golden band. It looked quite as smooth and ordinary as usual. He shook his head. "Nothing." he said.

Gandalf sighed, looking even more troubled than before.

"Wait." said Frodo.

Gandalf turned to him.

"There are some markings on the band." Frodo said, the fiery script reflecting on his pale face. "It's some form of Elvish; I can't read it."

"There are few who can." said Gandalf darkly. "The language is that of Mordor, which I will not utter here. In the Common Tongue it says:_ One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all, and in the Darkness bind them."_

Gandalf sighed again, and passed a hand over his lined face. "Now it is certain: this is the One Ring. And Sauron needs only this ring to fully regain his previous power. He is seeking it, all his thought is bent on it. Frodo, he must never find it."

Frodo nodded, looking scared but determined. He picked the ring up.

"Alright then; We'll hide it, put it away, and never speak of it again. No one knows it's here, do they?"

Gandalf remained silent, looking at his young friend gravely, his wise face unusually sad.

The hobbit turned to look at him, fear and doubt growing in his eyes again.

"No one knows it's here… Do they, Gandalf?"

Gandalf sighed with regret.

"There is another who knew Bilbo had the Ring; he once owned the Ring himself." he said. "I looked everywhere for the creature Gollum, but the enemy found him first. I don't know how long they tortured him, but he has told them two words: _Shire _and_ Baggins. _Sauron has already sent his deadliest servants to find the Ring."

Frodo's eyes widened.

"Shire? Baggins?" he cried. "But that will lead them here!"

Frodo looked at the Ring again. How could so beautiful a thing be so dangerous? He looked up at Gandalf again and took a deep breath.

"What must I do?"

0o0o0o0o0o0

Frodo packed his things rapidly. How had this happened? He had to leave the Shire and almost everything he owned behind: his friends, Bilbo's beautiful house, and go all the way to Bree.

"Make for the village of Bree. I will meet you at the Inn of the Prancing pony." Gandalf told him.

"Where will you go?" asked Frodo, wrapping a loaf of bread and putting it inside his rucksack.

"I am going to see the head of my Order. He is both wise and powerful. Trust me Frodo, he'll know what to do." Gandalf said with a reassuring smile.

Frodo nodded. Gandalf helped him pull on his rucksack, keeping up a stream of instructions. "Travel only by day. Stay off the roads."

Frodo nodded, pushing the Ring inside his pocket. "I can cut across country easily enough."

As he packed, the hobbit suddenly remembered his guests, the strangers who had come to stay with him since Bilbo's disappearance.

"Gandalf, what about the others? Do you think they should stay here?"

Gandalf glanced at him distractedly; clearly he had not thought about them, so great had his concern been for Frodo and the Ring. He was on the verge of answering Frodo's inquiry when there was a sudden noise in the bushes below the large window.

Both Gandalf and Frodo turned to the window.

"Get down!" Gandalf muttered to Frodo urgently.

He grabbed his staff and crept to the window as the bushes stirred again. The wizard hit the thing in the bushes with the pointy end of his staff and it grunted. Plants and wind don't grunt. Gandalf threw his staff to the floor and, leaning out of the window, pulled up the thing inside and flattened it onto the table. It was David.

"Confound it all Sam-" he started to shout, but then saw that the culprit was not, in fact, the supposed hobbit.

David was staring at Gandalf, clearly still stunned at having been dragged through a two-foot high window.

Gandalf, not put-off in the slightest by this astounded scrutiny, glowered at the intruder.

"Am I to understand you've been eavesdropping, Mr Nolan? What did you hear? Speak!"

David opened his mouth to respond, but before he could do so the door crashed open. Mary-Margaret came rushing in, followed by Emma, Sam Gamgee and Regina, pointing Hook's sword at Gandalf.

"Get your hands off my husband." she said coolly to the wizard.

Gandalf's blue eyes glanced at the sword, at Mary-Margaret herself, and at her slightly sheepish companions. He snorted.

"Put that away." he said gruffly to Mary-Margaret. "There's no need for a show."

Mary-Margaret slowly lowered the sword as David scrambled to his feet again and joined them. He still had a couple of dead leaves and smudges of earth on his clothes. Hook, who had ambled in after Regina, was in a similar state. Sam gulped at Gandalf's glare and hid behind Emma's knees.

Gandalf surveyed them some more and snorted again.

"It seems that you were all eavesdropping, then. I have no doubt that you heard every word of our conversation. Perhaps you thought you had every right to intrude?" he said tartly, still glowering at them all under extraordinarily bushy eyebrows.

The group said nothing for a few moments, but then Emma spoke up.

"We want to help Frodo." she said suddenly.

"We do?" muttered Hook to Regina.

The latter shrugged, not much caring either way.

Emma stepped forward.

"We heard about the Ring, and this Dark guy returning ("Well, I didn't." muttered Hook) and we want to go with Frodo to...wherever he's going."

Gandalf held her gaze for a few seconds. Emma felt like he was trying to dig out some other reason for her sudden wish to help their host. She kept her face impassive. She could not bring herself to say that it was for herself as well as for Frodo: the more they travelled across Middle-Earth the more chances they had of finding Henry. And, a small voice whispered self-righteously, it was also because they wanted to help Frodo and thank him for having been so kind to them.

Then, to the group's surprise Gandalf smiled.

"Good." he chuckled. "Very good."

He tuned to Frodo.

"Well, my dear Frodo it seems you've found yourself some worthy travelling companions. " he said cheerfully. "You and your new companions will have to get ready quickly, we leave at dawn tomorrow."

With that, he straightened his hat, picked up his staff, and marched out of the room towards the kitchen, where they could hear him making more tea.

The group exchanged glances, completely nonplussed by this sudden change of reaction and at a loss of what to say. That is, except Hook. He tapped Mary-Margaret on the shoulder.

"Lass, unless you're planning to kill anybody with that sword, do you think I could have it back?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 - Black Riders**

**Author's Note:**** Hello all my lovely readers, here's a new chapter for you; hope you enjoy it!**

**Thank you so much to all the amazing people who dropped a comment in a review, they all made me hyper for an hour afterwards! Again, please feel free to let me know on any passing thought you have on this story, I am desperate for ideas! Don't get me wrong though, I do know what I'm going to do with this story, only I also want to please you guys... : )**

**On with the chapter!**

"So let me get this straight," said Hook , face-palming his slightly bloodshot eyes (souvenirs from a bit of an overenthusiastic visit of the Green Dragon), "some evil maniac used to rule this place, but then he was defeated except for his bloody ring, and because of said bloody ring that bastard is now still alive and trying to rule over everything again?"

The others nodded solemnly, the hobbits too polite to comment on his rather unique choice of words, and his companions too used to his demeanour to care.

They were currently resting under a large tree, and Frodo had just filled them on all the facts, knowing that they probably hadn't heard everything if they had been eavesdropping. It was the first time Hook heard the story, and he was having difficulty understanding why that meant they all had to be trekking across country for the whole day.

For that was what they had been doing: they had left Bag End at first light, parted with Gandalf in a small clearing, and set off across the Shire with nothing but food, water, a change of clothes and the few weapons they had. They had marched all day under the warm sun, eating lunch on the go and not stopping for many hours. Most of the Storybrooke group marvelled at how much easier it was for them to walk for hours now; it seemed that the fresh air and the hearty food of their host had strengthened them. However, all stamina had a limit, and soon both Hook and Gold had found themselves lagging behind slightly toward the end of the afternoon. Emma noticed this and called for a rest.

Hook muttered something about getting used to his land legs, whilst Gold slumped down next to a tree. He looked exhausted.

Emma squirmed guiltily; she'd forgotten Gold had a limp and a cane. "Frodo, d'you think it's okay if we have a rest for fifteen minutes? Some of use really can't go on any further." she asked the worried-looking hobbit.

Frodo shook his head and smiled. "No, not fifteen minutes. We've covered a great deal of land, more than I had hoped for. We can stop here and stay for the night."

Sighing with relief, all seven of Frodo's companions had sunk to the ground, stretching their tired limbs.

And now Sam was poking pieces of bacon and sausages in a frying pan, the others content to simply watch him or chat amongst themselves. Frodo was lying on a horizontal branch of a tree, smoking from a long, thin pipe. The chatter gradually died down, as their attention was now mostly on their future dinner. Suddenly Frodo looked up, a smile on his face. Emma looked around too, wondering what he had heard. Then she heard it too; a slow, enchanting melody, that filled her with peace and content, and yet gave her a certain sense of longing and sadness. She closed her eyes as she listened to the music.

"Wood-elves." she heard Frodo say.

That made her open her eyes again. _Hang on, _she thought_, wood-elves_?

She got up, her weariness suddenly forgotten as she followed Frodo and Sam through bushes and fallen trees. She caught up with them when they knelt behind a large bush. What she saw next was enough to take her breath away.

A procession of tall and beautiful beings was making its way past them, oblivious to their presence. The singing came from their midst, and Emma was entranced by the beauty of it all. The elves seemed to glow a silver light, illuminating the darkening forest around them. She heard a rustle next to her and turned around to see Mary-Margaret, also staring at the other-worldly creatures with amazement in her eyes.

"They're going to the harbour beyond the White Towers. To the Grey Havens." Emma heard Frodo say.

"They're leaving Middle-Earth." Sam whispered.

"Never to return." Frodo whispered back.

Sam looked crestfallen. "I don't know why," he said, "it makes me sad."

Emma felt a surge of sympathy for the sweet little hobbit, for she could feel it too. The thought that such wonderful beauty should leave Middle-earth seemed so sad it was as if Frodo had said there would be no more sunlight or music.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Emma cursed as they tramped on, through fields and meadows, rivers and streams, glens and clearings. Her fingers were swollen from having walked with her arms swinging so much, her feet ached, a couple of blisters were making their presence known, and the hot sun was hammering a pretty pattern on the back of her neck. Why were the discomforts of walking never mentioned in books and stories? Emma glanced jealously at the hobbits. They were bantering in a carefree manner that left Emma in no doubt that they weren't suffering from any of her soreness's.

The company had set off early in the morning, refreshed by a good night's sleep. They had all been so exhausted they had had no trouble whatsoever finding it. All apart from Sam, who had spent the night grumbling about roots.

They were now marching through a field of corn, the stalks of which were easily as tall as Hook. Emma was just wondering when their next rest would be when she heard Sam's anxious cry behind her. She frowned; what was the matter now?

She turned around to see Sam hurrying over to them, looking relieved.

"I thought I'd lost you." he explained apologetically, glancing at Emma's annoyed face.

"What are you talking about?" asked Frodo kindly.

Sam looked sheepish. "It's just something Gandalf said." he muttered.

Frodo immediately looked suspicious. "What did he say?"

" 'Don't you lose him, Samwise Gamgee.' "Sam answered. "And I don't mean to."

"Sam, we're still in the Shire," Frodo said, laughing, "what could possibly happen?"

It was then that fortune decided to show Frodo exactly what could happen, and why.

Something burst out of the corn stalks and bowled Frodo over. He bumped into Emma as he fell, sending her sprawling over onto Hook. Their other companions hardly had time to laugh before another something knocked over Mary-Margaret, who fell back into David, who lost his balance and dragged down Regina with him as he tried to clutch at something to remain standing.

The result was a very dusty, very annoyed tangled heap on the floor, surveyed by Gold, who raised a mocking eyebrow.

Hook was smirking at Emma, who was still lying across him.

"Shall we pretend for the sake of generosity that that wasn't deliberate, princess?"

Emma cursed again as she got up, dusting herself off and glaring at Hook. The latter stood up as well, still smirking.

"Really, Swan," he said, his eyes twinkling. "If you wanted to lie on me, I can assure you there are more_...subtle_ and...intimate ways." he finished with a wink.

Emma ignored him, even though she was burning with embarrassment and seriously considering wiping that face of its grin with a well-aimed punch. She instead determinedly set her attention on the two somethings.

As it turned out, it was Merry and Pippin, both carrying large armfuls of vegetables and rather shifty expressions.

"You've been into Farmer Maggot's crop!" shouted Sam indignantly as Pippin shoved cabbages and carrots into his hands.

Before Emma could groan in exasperation, shouts sounded somewhere not far to their right. From what they could hear, Farmer Maggot had found out about the two scoundrels and was none too pleased.

"Run!" shouted Merry.

They didn't need telling twice. They ran for it, wrenching corn stalks and leaves from their path. Frodo emerged first, coming to a sudden and wobbly halt as he the edge of a small cliff just in time. However his other nine companions didn't have that advantage and ran into him one after the other. Mary-Margaret came last and crashed into the tangled group. The added force of her momentum was enough to topple the whole company over the edge of the cliff. The resultant journey was short, but uncomfortable. The ten companions groaned as one as soon as the dusty heap came to something of a stop.

For the second time in as many minutes, a furious Emma picked herself off Hook. Incredibly, he was still grinning.

"Would you like to go over the edge with me again, lass?"

Emma snarled with rage, snatched a cabbage from the ground, and lobbed it at Hook's smirking face. Hard. The resulting "Oomph!" was like music to her ears.

Next to them, the others hadn't noticed anything.

"Trust a Brandybuck and a Took." Sam was muttering crossly, dusting the sleeves of his coat.

"What?" asked Merry, looking supremely unconcerned. "That was just a detour. A shortcut."

"A shortcut to _what_, precisely?" snapped Mary-Margaret, who was being helped up by a very pissed-off-looking David.

"Mushrooms!" shouted Pippin.

The three hobbits scrambled over to the objects of their excitement.

Emma was taking deep breaths to calm herself down. Regina was goggling bemusedly at the hobbits.

"What is it with hobbits and mushrooms?" she asked in wonder.

Emma, who had noticed such behaviour concerning mushrooms before during her cooking lessons, simply shrugged.

"I think we should get off the road." called Frodo, who was staring at the path they were on.

Emma and her companions looked too, but failed to see anything out of the ordinary.

"Why?" she asked, puzzled. "It's empty."

Frodo's eyes suddenly widened and a look of panic spread on his face.

"Get off the road!" he shouted.

Emma glanced at her parents, and an unspoken agreement passed between them. They would get off the road, if only to calm Frodo down. Still bewildered, Emma and the others quickly climbed down the small drop on the side of the road. There was a large tree there, with roots forming a roof of sorts when they sat down beneath it. Hook, David, Gold and Regina sat there with their backs to the wall of earth, while Mary-Margaret sat on David's lap, Sam on Regina, Pippin on Hook, and Frodo on Gold. That left Emma and Merry to climb the tree until they could sit between the lowest branches. They sat there, some of them squirming and trying to get more comfortable, others silent, wondering why on earth they were reduced to such a ridiculous situation. The answer came to them in more a direct manner than any of them had expected.

There was the sound of galloping hooves, a brutal halt, and the sudden feeling of having been plunged in a pool of cold water and submerged in despair - the very air they breathed seemed to have turned to ice. Trembling uncontrollably, Emma summoned her strength and courage, and risked a peek around her branch. What she saw only made her blood freeze more.

A rider, swathed in a heavy black cloak, was dismounting a jet-black horse. Its (for the rider could hardly be described as human) metal boots made an ominous thump as they hit the floor. She could hear the hideous creature sniffing, as though it were trying to smell out its prey.

The cold despair that was coursing in her veins instead of her blood now threatened to overwhelm her mind as well. How long Emma waited with bated breath, hoping and praying the rider wouldn't look up, she didn't know. Seconds - perhaps minutes or hours later - she distantly registered someone below her throw something, and the black rider suddenly leapt back in chase of the object in question.

Emma and Merry immediately took this opportunity to drop down from their sanctuary, landing with no grace whatsoever on the leaf-strewn ground. Their companions were as pale-faced and shaky as she probably was.

"What _was_ that?" Merry gasped.

Frodo put a hand to his chest and didn't answer.

"Let's go." said Mary-Margaret, still trembling.

They didn't need to be told twice, and they ran off deeper into the forest. They started by running, but slowed down when they had put a fair bit of distance behind them. However, even if their limbs welcomed the slower rate, their minds were constantly on the alert, still recovering from their strange encounter. They were still so nervous and scared that they gradually speed up to a trot again, to finally break out into a flat-out run once more.

At last, when night had fallen and the whole company was so tired they could barely walk any more they stopped, panting.

"Anything?" asked Sam, clutching his ribs.

"Nothing." answered Frodo, hanging onto the bark of a tree.

"What is going on?" gasped Pippin, stumbling over to Frodo.

"That Black Rider was looking for something," Merry stated, looking at his cousin, "or some_one_."

"Get down!" David hissed.

Over the edge of the hill, illuminated by moonlight, stood the Black Rider, his horse stamping impatiently.

Frodo didn't answer for a few moments, looking like he was deciding what words to choose. Finally, he looked at Merry, determination and fear written across his face.

"My companions and I must get to Bree."

Merry nodded, thankfully accepting Frodo's deliberate lack of explanations. "Right." he said. "Buckleberry ferry. Follow me."

The hobbits and their human companions ran on through the forest, keeping to the shadows and away from the road.

Suddenly, the Black rider burst out from a cluster of dark trees, startling the company. Mary-Margaret screamed, and Emma heard Hook swear. Emma wasn't feeling far from doing so herself, and only acute fear and dread held her tongue.

She stumbled back, desperately trying to avoid the flaying hooves of the Black Rider's horse. While her body was busy trying to save its owner, her mind was racing, searching in vain for a way to fight the creature off. The piercing cries of the Black Rider were driving through her head like spikes. Finally, the answer came to her, so simple and obvious that she almost laughed at herself for not having thought of it before.

Finding a piece of ground that wasn't occupied by her panicking friends or shouting parents, Emma wrenched her gun from the inside pocket of her jacket and pointed it straight at the Rider's - for lack of a better word, for it was hidden - face. She aimed, pulled back the safety catch, and pulled the trigger.

To everyone's disgust, she missed. The bullet went soaring past the Rider to lodge itself in a tree behind it. However, the loud noise frightened the horse, who had never heard such a sound before. The beast reared high on its hind legs and neighed so loudly it resembled Mary-Margaret's scream.

"You missed!" Emma heard Hook yell. "How could you miss?!"

"I didn't see _you_ coming up with anything to fight it!" Emma yelled back furiously.

This tiny lapse of attention from their pursuer was enough for Emma and her companions to escape, ducking and dodging the powerful kicking hooves. They raced to the river, which they could now see behind the thinning trees. On and on they sprinted, fear acting as the best of stimulants. They vaulted over the fence, thundered along the wooden jetty, and leaped on to the ferry which the hobbits and Gold (how he had gotten there first was not something Emma's brain was willing to figure out at the moment) had managed to loosen already. Emma landed hard on the floor of the ferry - which was little more than a few planks of woods lashed together to make a platform - driving the breath from her lungs. She turned around, gasping for breath. David was still running, the Black Rider very close on his heels.

Emma saw Mary-Margaret yelling encouragement at her husband, and heard herself joining in. David reached the end of the jetty, took a massive leap towards the ferry - now several feet from the bank - soared over the water...flew over his companions...and splashed into the water in front of the ferry. He surfaced, gasping and spluttering. The hobbits helped him on, laughing shakily. Mary-Margaret was sobbing with a mixture of shock, relief and fear, and she hugged her husband tightly. David hugged her back, still too out of breath to speak.

With everyone now safely on board, the company turned as one to the river bank they had just left. The black Rider was now galloping off...followed by two others. The companions looked at each other in horror. _Three _Black Riders?

"This is bloody brilliant." grumbled Hook. "Now it's just a small matter of avoiding the road, life form in general, _and_ those black bastards. Just gets better and better."

Emma couldn't help but silently agree with him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The company, some of them still wet and shivering, clambered down from the ferry. It was somewhat of a relief; the ferry had been hobbit-sized, and the six humans and four hobbits had tested its capabilities to their very limit.

They walked on until they found the crossroads, one of which would lead them to Bree. Frodo stopped suddenly, hesitation clear on his pale face.

"What's the matter?" asked Regina shortly. She was tired, wet, and hungry. "Why are we stopping?"

"Well, we won't go to our right: south is not where we want to go; Bree is northeast from here," Frodo said. "So, we either take the road North and follow it until we come to the Brandywine Bridge, and then we go East from there, or we go East into the forest and then cut a path northeast through it."

Merry looked alarmed at his cousin's words.

"Frodo, we can't go into the forest; you know the tales that surround it better than I do!"

Frodo nodded, evidently torn between choosing a dangerous road or a slightly-safer-but-still-very-dangerous road.

Hook frowned.

"What are these tales?" he asked suspiciously. He would never admit it, but those Black Riders had scared him greatly. He'd be damned before he did anything to bring himself closer to anything as...dangerous (he tried hard not to think the word 'scary' ).

Merry shot him a look.

"The Old Forest isn't a normal forest, Captain." he said quietly. "Years ago this forest actually tried to fight against the people of Buckland- grew over the hedge at a rapid pace, and would not stop despite the fact that the residents of Buckland cut it back constantly. It wasn't until they made a great bonfire that the forest finally ceased its attempts to cross the hedge."

"Bloody hell." Hook muttered. "Thinking trees. What next?"

Merry shook his head. "There are creatures in there we definitely do not want to come across."

"Well it's either thinking trees or those Black Riders." said Emma firmly. She folded her arms and surveyed her companions with a beady eye, daring them to contradict her. "If we go through the forest, we almost certainly lose the Black Riders."

Regina scowled. "But the direct road to Bree would make more sense. If we follow it without actually being _on_ it we can get to Bree quicker."

David shook his head at the former queen. "Didn't you see that first one? It _knew_ we were there: it could smell us. We would stand no chance by following the road. I say we go through the forest."

Gold, who had remained silent for the most part since they had left Bag End, spoke up.

"Personally, I think the forest is the best choice. Those Black Riders are unnatural. Their power is immense, and the less we come in contact with them, the better. According to our worthy friends," he nodded at the hobbits "we at least know that the forest contains nothing worse than them. The forest now seems to be the best option."

"How about we vote on it?" suggested Pippin.

Frodo nodded and gestured to Emma and her parents.

David looked at his family, seeking and receiving their consent.

"The forest." he confirmed. "Last I saw those Black Riders had swords, whereas trees are wonderfully bereft of such weaponry."

Frodo nodded, and looked over to Regina and Gold. Regina looked drained and fed up, but also resigned. She nodded, as did Gold.

Hook folded his arms. "I thought you said we would only _almost_ certainly lose them if we went through the forest." he pointed out stubbornly. "I'd not go unless there was a full chance of escaping those things." He kept his face stony, trying hard not to show that he was almost as frightened of going through the forest as he was of the Riders.

Sam, Merry and Pippin all opted to follow the road, their longing for warm beds and a hot meal no doubt influencing their decision, as well as the well-known tales about the Old Forest. Pippin looked pleadingly at Frodo, silently begging him to follow their choice.

Frodo sighed and rubbed his temples. "I am terrified of the Forest." he said, "but even more so of those Black Riders. We will go through the Old Forest."

And so they set off, Hook grumbling and Gold limping. They walked for a couple more miles along hills until they at last reached the wall-like hedge that marked the boundary of the infamous forest.

They entered it through a gap in the hedge, where they found a small clearing in front of the sudden mass of dark and foreboding trees. They settled down for the night and arranged watches - for both the forest and the Riders - before each slumping down and falling into an exhausted sleep.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

At dawn, the sunlight crept through the gap in the hedge, effectively waking all members of the company. They got up without a word, grabbed and apple each, and set off into the mass of trees before them.

Soon, all the bright morning light disappeared under the canopy of the dark green trees, and they were forced to walk on with nothing but a greenish glow around them for guidance. There was no talking; all of them kept to their own thoughts - for the most part anxious. The forest seemed unnaturally quiet, too. The woods near Hobbiton were always twittering, whistling, swishing and chirping, due to all the wildlife in them. The Old Forest though was as quiet as a church; perhaps it reminded the humans of one too, because they were all loath to disturb the peace. At least Emma, Mary-Margaret and Regina had something to keep their focus on: the long dresses the hobbits had given them kept getting caught and tangled in brambles and on branches. Emma cursed under her breath for the tenth time as she wrenched her ridiculously long skirts from a particularly tenacious cluster of thorns.

At one point, however, Hook noticed something strange.

"I thought we were going northeast?" he asked the hobbits in front of them.

"We are." answered Merry.

"Well, then, why are we going northwest?"

Merry shot him an annoyed look over his shoulder.

"There isn't much we can do about it: the trees keep moving together so that we can't go through and change to northeast." he said darkly.

Hook tripped on a root.

"The trees keep..._what_, sorry?"

"Moving closer together. Blocking us."

Hook laughed, trying, and failing, not to sound nervous.

"Moving trees?" he said disbelievingly. "Who ever heard of such a thing?"

"As you've probably noticed, this isn't what you'd call a normal forest. And there isn't much we can do about it anyway." Merry snapped, his patience wearing thin.

"Moving trees..." muttered Hook, wrenching his hook from a cluster of brambles. "First they're _thinking_, then they're _moving_, next they'll be _talking_."

Merry opened his mouth as though to say something, but seemed to think better of it and closed it again.

They walked on, keeping as close to northeast as possible, but always finding obstacles and thick cluster of trees blocking their way. At last, they emerged from the thick forest onto a bright riverbank.

Squinting in the sudden sunlight, Merry looked up and down the river before them. He looked annoyed and relieved at the same time.

"Well, at least I know where are, now." he said. "This is the Withywindle, which means we are indeed completely off course. We follow the river south until we get out of the forest, then we travel north through the Barrow Downs, and we take the east road to Bree. Then..." he paused.

"Then we shall see what there is to see." completed Frodo. "We should go; the sooner we get out of here, the better."

They followed the little river's course, enjoying the sunlight and the merry bubbling of the water. After ten minute or so, Mary-Margaret and Regina yawned, suddenly struggling to keep their eyes open.

Emma felt her head droop. "I'm tired." she mumbled.

Frodo nodded, his eyes drooping as well. "We can rest under that willow." he suggested, stumbling over to the tree in question. The others followed without question, suddenly to sleepy to do anything other than lie down and find blissful oblivion. Slowly, one by one, they dozed off.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

_Emma was walking. She was following a path, the sides of which were strewn with grass and flowers. She was walking, she didn't know where to, and she didn't know why except that she was meant to follow the path. She walked on, feeling content and at peace. _

_She was just wondering when the path would end when she saw another figure on the path, walking towards her. The figure was small, hobbit-sized. Emma vaguely wondered if it was one of her companions._

_The silhouette came closer and closer. At last, Emma could see the face of the little person. Henry's face was smiling at her, looking happy and pleased to see her. Emma grinned back, and she started running to him, arms outstretched. Her son came running to her as well. They met with a crash, each hugging the other tightly. Emma hugged her son, smiling, smiling, feeling at peace with the world. Henry was there, and that was all that mattered._

Emma was flying...falling... She heard a splash, and felt a sudden rush of cold..._wetness_. She opened her eyes, coughing and spluttering, water streaming from her hair and face. She sneezed, the water was freezing. She heard cursing next to her. Regina was sitting in the river as well, swearing at the top of her voice. If Emma wasn't soaking wet and frozen herself, she would have burst out laughing. Hearing Regina swear and oath wasn't something you saw every day.

"That _beep_ tree just _beep_ threw us in the _beep_ river!" Regina shrieked. Her dark hair and long dress were plastered to her face and body, and her eyes were wide and glowering, making her look like a particularly vengeful drowned cat.

Emma supposed she wasn't much better herself. She wrenched a leg from the squelchy mud of the river bed and made very un-graceful exit of the river. Her skirts were clinging around her legs and refusing to relinquish them. She stumbled over to the willow, not sure whether to laugh or follow Regina's example and shriek obscenities at the willow, who was waving merrily at her. She resisted the strange temptation to wave back.

It wasn't until she heard muffled screams that she postponed both options; the screams were coming from _inside_ the willow. Emma ran over in time to see the silver glimmer of Hook's namesake disappear under roots, and Merry and Pippin's green cloaks do likewise. Gold's cane was lying near its' owner's vanishing leg.

Panicking, she tugged at the massive roots with all her might, trying in vain to release her companions. She pulled with all her might - finally thumping it with the butt of her gun - all in vain. Mary-Margaret and David were at her side now, pulling and straining at the willow's murderous roots. Emma grabbed Hook's discarded sword and raised her arms, preparing to strike.

"Don't!" came someone's voice from inside the tree. "He says he'll suffocate us if you hack him!"

"They can talk, too?" muttered Emma. "Bloody brilliant."

She turned to Frodo, who was standing there, looking at a complete loss of what to do. "_Do_ something!" she screamed at him.

Frodo looked blank for another moment, before turning on the spot and running to the river.

"Help!" he yelled. "Somebody help us!"

Emma didn't have time to consider the wisdom of such a decision before she felt a crushing pain in her ankle. She looked down and saw in horror that a root had now latched itself on her leg. She cried out in fear, grabbing Mary-Margaret, trying to wrench her limb away from the tree.

At that moment, everyone heard singing coming from the somewhat thinner group of trees slightly apart from the forest. They listened intently, first to identify the singer, then to wonder who on earth would bother to sing such nonsense.

"_Hey dol! Merry dol! Ring a dong dillo! Ring a dong! Hop along! Fal lal the willow! Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!_"

The panicky companions barely had time to glance at each other bemusedly before the singer came into view. And what a sight he was!

He wore yellow boots, a bright blue coat, and a huge straw hat. A long brown beard framed his merry red face. About a foot higher than the hobbits, he was too tall to be one of them, but also too short to be a Man. He wore a huge smile on his face- an expression that convinced the people of the Storybrooke that he was utterly mad.

_Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! My darling!__  
__Light goes the weather-wind and the feathered starling.__  
__Down along under Hill, shining in the sunlight,__  
__Waiting on the doorstep for the cold starlight,__  
__There my pretty lady is. River-woman's daughter,__  
__Slender as the willow-wand, clearer than the water.__  
__Old Tom Bombadil water-lilies bringing__  
__Comes hopping home again. Can you hear him singing?__  
__Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! and merry-o,__  
__Goldberry, Goldberry, merry yellow berry-o!__  
__Poor old Willow-man, you tuck your roots away!__  
__Tom's in a hurry now. Evening will follow day.__  
__Tom's going home again water-lilies bringing.__  
__Hey! Come derry dol! Can you hear me singing?_

"What's wrong, my lads and ladies? What can old Tom do for you?" he said brightly when he had finally stopped singing, hopping over to them. He didn't walk so much as dance, Emma noticed through the haze of pain that was gradually creeping up her leg.

"Our friends are trapped inside that tree," she managed to gasp. "Like my leg. We tried getting them out, but nothing is working!"

The man laughed. "That's it? Old Tom Bom knows all the forest's secrets, knows Old Man Willow's secrets. Naught worse than that? We will have them out soon enough my hearties!"

The man walked- danced- over to the willow, and whispered something that sounded like a song into the bark. 'You let them out again, Old Man Willow!' he said. 'What be you a-thinking of? You should not be waking. Eat earth! Dig deep! Drink water! Go to sleep! Bombadil is talking!' The willow tree shivered, and suddenly out popped Pippin, Merry, Hook, and Gold. They scrambled away from the tree, whose biggest root waggled at them in a way that reminded Emma of the way a tongue did when blowing a raspberry.

Hook shook leaves and dirt from his hair, hastily composing his features in a cool and unconcerned expression.

"Lucky we didn't panic, eh lass?" he said breezily to Emma.

Emma stared back at him in disbelief. "Lucky Mr Bombadil knew what he was doing." she said scathingly.

Hook shrugged and went to pick up his sword, which Emma had thrown aside.

Their companions were crowding around Tom Bombadil, thanking him over and over again for saving their lives. The man waved their thanks away merrily.

"Anytime, no problem here! Old Man Willow always needs a nudge to make him behave!" he laughed in a singsong voice. "Now, you shall come to my home with me! The table is all laden with golden cream, honeycomb, and white bread and butter. Goldberry is waiting. Time enough for questions around the dinner table. Follow me as quick as you can!"

With that, he pranced away, dodging trees and skipping over roots so fast the company had a hard time trying to keep up. They were so busy keeping him within their sight they barely had time to question the man's apparent lunacy. He lead them thus for a short while, and at last they emerged from the forest and saw a green plain, with trees on the edge of the flat land well-kept and the grass short and trimmed. Still they followed the man along the river, until they came to a well-kept house. It was the only building they had seen since well before their encounter with Merry and Pippin, but the cheery lights streaming out of the windows quickly made them forget that. Tom Bombadil stopped at the doorway, opened it and waved them inside. Emma and her companions stepped in, thanking him repeatedly for his kindness. Again, he waved away their thanks and simply helped the women out of their still-damp cloaks, and came to the aid of the hobbits, who were having difficulty extricating themselves from the straps of their backpacks.

Tom Bombadil then lead them to a large room panelled in wood, where stood a large table absolutely heaving with bread, butter, honey, fruit and cream. This heavenly sight was only distracted by a lovely golden-haired woman walking down the stairway that lead upstairs.

"Ah, there's my pretty Goldberry!" said Tom Bombadil fondly. "My dear, let us sit and feast with our guests. Then we shall sit at the fire and tell stories!"

If Emma wasn't feeling so tired and hungry, she might have considered the way Tom Bombadil spoke patronizing and childlike. As it were, their host was so jolly and kind, and Goldberry was so charming and merry that the thought hardly ever crossed her mind.

The company sat at the table and immediately started eating, famished as they were by having trekked almost non-stop for five days. Emma rolled her eyes when she saw Hook eye his goblet of clear water suspiciously and glance at Goldberry.

"Love, you wouldn't happen to have any ale or rum, eh?" he asked hopefully.

Emma nearly choked on her grapes. David, she couldn't help but notice, also looked up eagerly, and Emma herself wasn't feeling averse to something stronger after all the emotions of the past few days. Mary-Margaret frowned, but didn't say anything.

However, Goldberry just smiled kindly.

"Nay, for we only drink water from the stream and the dew of morning light. But come! We have milk with honey and spices. The juice of our berries is just as quenching!"

Hook nodded gloomily and returned to his plate while Emma snickered quietly.

"So! How about introductions my hearties, then, eh?" suggested Tom. "I'll go first, shall I? Tom Bombadil, Master of wood, water and hill, and spouse to the fair Goldberry."

"Then you own these lands?" asked Emma curiously.

Tom chuckled. "Oh, goodness! no, little lady. They all own themselves, I am simply their master." Still chuckling, he gestured to David to continue. David obliged.

"David Nolan, and this is my wife Mary-Margaret. And our - "

Emma cut across him. "Emma Swan."

Frodo was next. "Frodo Baggins is my name, and this is Samwise Gamgee. My cousins here are Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took." he said, as each hobbit waved cheerily when their name was mentioned.

"Captain Hook." said Hook with a smirk and a slight bow. Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Regina Mills."

"Gold."

If Tom found any of their names strange or Gold's deliberate omission of details he did not say so, and instead continued to chat gaily with them. Mary-Margaret and Goldberry were becoming fast friends, chattering away light-heartedly, while Regina kept mostly to herself and vaguely listened to their host's talk. David and Gold were talking to Tom about the lands around the Old Forest, and Hook was eyeing his goblet hopefully, as though expecting it to fill with drink at any moment. Emma chatted with the hobbits, enjoying her food but thinking of bed more and more longingly.

At last, everyone was sated and Goldberry bade them goodnight and 'dreams of light and wonder'. The company went to sit by the fireplace, where a roaring fire and cosy armchairs were waiting for them. Most of them sank into one of these, while Mary-Margaret and David curled up together on a two-person couch. Emma chose to sit cross-legged on the thick carpet near the fire, where she was soon joined by Sam and Pippin. Tom sat in the biggest armchair and settled himself comfortably.

"Well now, my hearties! This is the right night to tell stories and hear much singing. Old Tom will start."

And so he opened his mouth and told them many stories, and his voice often rose to a singing pitch. He told them a great number of tales, first about the woods, then the rivers, waterfalls, and the sun. As they listened, the companions began to understand the ways of the woods, the thoughts of trees - riddled with malice and pride by the slow passing of years - and the role of Tom among them all.

Emma watched the strange man prance around, dancing along to his stories and songs. She realized how ridiculous and annoying she would have found him had she still been in Storybrooke, how silly she would have thought his manners of speech and behaviour. Strangely though, they had no effect on her tonight, except perhaps slight amusement as he tapped the rhythm through a particularly nonsensical poem.

At last, it transpired, Tom seemed to run out of stories, and he whisked them all off to bed, leading to two separate rooms: "one for the lovely ladies, and one for these merry lads, my hearties!"

The sight of the deep mattresses and soft thick blankets were like heaven to Emma. Tom showed them where they could wash, then bade them good night. Emma washed herself as best as she could with the simple basin and cloth, then literally sank into her bed, the padding deliciously moulding her tired limbs. She was visiting Sandman before her head hit the pillow.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The next day, each member of the company woke to the sound of raindrops pitter-pattering on the window. The day was indisputably wet, and so the company stayed indoors for the most part, either resting or finding relaxing activities to keep themselves occupied. The meals their hosts presented them with were once again huge and delicious, and the company took full advantage of it, having had only fruit and a bit of meat over the last few days.

Mary-Margaret was soon helping Goldberry with her household duties, during which they could be heard chatting and laughing. Tom would also be there and tell them all story after story by the fireside, keeping boredom at bay with his singsong voice and ridiculous lyrics. And when their hosts were occupied, the hobbits would introduce the others to games either of their devising or from the very foundations of the Shire. Gold was pleasantly surprised that Middle-Earth had chess in it; the fact that such a classic game had transcended worlds lifted all the strangers' spirits and filled them with hope. It was like a tiny glimpse of home, a glimmer of light and hope for the future.

That night they gathered by the fireplace again, the humans bracing themselves once more for the seemingly-unstoppable flow of stories they were about to go through again. The hobbits seemed to enjoy them, but the more Emma rested and recovered her strength, the more unbearable Tom's manners of speech and being became to Emma. His weird speech patterns and patronizing ways irritated her even more than Hook's constant teasing and innuendos, which was saying something - Hook was now sporting a black eye for reasons easily-guessed.

That night, however, instead of standing in front of the fire to start his long monologue, Tom sat in his armchair and bade them to tell their own story. The six from Storybrooke looked at each other, worried and hesitant. How much were they to reveal?

Fortunately, whether Frodo saw their anxious looks or simply fancied himself a storyteller, he gave a short and simplified account of their story in their stead. He then went on to recount the brief outline of Bilbo's party, Gandalf's hurried departure, the six's stay in Bag End, and finally Gandalf's extraordinary tale of the Ring and the terrible consequences it carried.

Tom looked interested every time Frodo mentioned the Ring, and held out a ruddy hand when Frodo finished his tale.

"Ah, my lad, you must now show me this precious ring!"

To his astonishment, Frodo pulled out the Ring from his breast pocket and dropped it in Tom's outstretched palm. As soon as the golden glint of the Ring became visible, every single member of the company from the Shire felt an untameable rush of desire for it. Emma was entranced; the Ring seemed to be whispering to her, calling her name, promising her its' power would find and save Henry. With it she could control the world...

Tom closed his palm, and immediately everyone snapped back to reality. Tom put the Ring on his middle finger, and to everybody's amazement he didn't vanish as Bilbo had but stayed solid and visible. He laughed, took it off, fiddled with it, threw it into the air, caught it again, made it reappear in his other hand, and all without the slightest show of desire. As Tom laughed again and handed the Ring back to Frodo, ten pairs of eyes followed his movements, each wishing they were its bearer.

The eyes that stayed fixed on it longest however, were that of Gold, an expression of utmost lust and desire on his face. He quickly rearranged his features as soon as the Ring disappeared, but Emma had seen it already.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The company stayed with Tom Bombadil and Goldberry for three days before they decided to continue their journey to Bree. They awoke on the morning of the fourth to a bright sunrise, the air tinged with the rain-and-leaf smell of early autumn. Emma groaned as she got up; no more soft mattresses. Instead, they'd be walking and climbing hills again. Simply _spiffing_.

Tom hosted their last meal together then lead them outside, where stood what seemed to the company a whole contingent of ponies. The sweet little creatures glanced at them placidly, whinnying a welcome and looking curiously at the little crowd before them.

The ten companions looked at Tom in bewilderment. Predictably, for he seemed to do this before each time he spoke, Tom laughed.

"Come, now, my hearties! Let not morning sun catch you up! Up you get, up you get, and Old Tom will lead you to the barrow downs. Yes, the barrow downs, from whence you will then trot merrily along to Bree, village of men."

Ah. So the ponies were meant for the ten companions to ride on. At this sudden understanding, both Regina and Mary-Margaret brightened considerably, and immediately ran over to the nearest ponies and stroked them gently, whispering words of greeting and encouragement to their new steeds. David happily approached a feisty-looking dappled grey, giving it the rest of the apple he'd been eating at breakfast.

Others, though, weren't feeling quite as chipper; Hook was staring dubiously at a jet-black pony as though he was sure such a tiny thing wouldn't be able to carry his weight. Gold had managed to get close to and stroke a cream-coloured mare, but was looking daunted at the greater challenge of actually straddling her. Merry and Pippin were fighting over who got which pony, and Frodo was mounting a peaceful bay, while Sam was repeatedly running backwards from his, who seemed intent on getting a chunk out of him.

As for Emma, she cautiously made her way over to a palomino, who was looking at her curiously. She stretched out a hand - palm out flat, as Henry had taught her at the stables. The palomino sniffed it daintily, no doubt looking for a piece of sugar, and nuzzling her empty hand hopefully.

Emma had just decided that they were alright, really, horses, when she suddenly felt herself being lifted up and flung onto the pony's back. She let out a yelp, which startled her mount into a brisk trot. Clinging on for sheer life as well as dignity, Emma finally managed to stick her feet in the stirrups and straighten herself. She grabbed the reins, pulling as hard as she dared, managing to stop before the pony carried her off too far. Furious at the person who had thrown her on, Emma wrenched her pony around, only to see David rolling on the floor roaring with laughter, and the hobbits in danger of falling off their own steeds from laughing so much.

Glaring at all of them, her face scarlet, Emma kicked her pony to a brisk walk towards her companions. Mary-Margaret was still giggling, her hand over her mouth, and even Regina looked amused.

To save herself the embarrassment of looking at any of them, Emma turned to Tom instead, thanking him warmly for his hospitality and his generous idea of lending them the ponies.

"Anytime, dear lady, anytime!" he boomed. "Tom will show you were to go, until you reach the borders of these lands, where these ponies will leave you and find their way back to me. Off you go, my hearties!"

And so, they set off. The rising sun warming their backs, the fresh early-autumn breeze caressing the backs of their necks and the sweet after-rain smell refreshing their still-drowsy bodies.

They continued thus for many hours, plodding along on their mild steeds, enjoying the countryside as they stopped to have lunch. They still had their packs full of provisions with them from the Shire, and Tom had also been kind enough to supply them with more bread and apples. He's also lent the six humans cloaks when he'd seen their other-worldly clothing - which wasn't very adapted to the climate of Middle-Earth - although he only laughed when they had asked how was it he'd had six large spare cloaks lying around. Anyhow, the cloaks came in useful when they reached the last hills of the barrow downs near sunset, when a chilly wind made its presence known.

At last, the boundaries of the barrow downs - marked by a row of large white stones - came into view. By now heavy clouds had rolled over the whole of the sky, and it had started to drizzle. The ponies walked them steadily to the very edge of the line then stopped as one. The ten companions clambered off their mounts, some more stiffly than others; Emma smirked as Hook stumbled and fell in a muddy puddle.

When they had removed all their packs from the backs of the ponies, the little creatures whinnied a farewell and galloped back in the opposite direction, to return to their master.

Groaning as the drizzle became downright rain, Emma hitched a backpack on, mentally readying herself for the wet and muddy walk ahead of them. Frodo had said there would be at least two miles east to walk before the would reach Bree.

They set off, staying off the road and instead walking along it, out of sight behind the trees. The rain steadily increased to a heavy downpour, and the whole company were soon wet through. Emma was sure she would have emerged drier had she climbed out of a swimming pool.

"So what is it like, Bree?" she asked in an attempt to alleviate their spirits by making conversation, not that she had much hope.

"It's a village that has both human and hobbit inhabitants," Merry answered, "many of my family members occasionally travel there for trade. It's known to be quite respectable, although off course every town will have its negative aspect."

"Well I don't think it could have worse than dark wizards, an angry dragon or a rampaging giant running about." Emma muttered, and immediately regretted her words; Sam looked at her curiously, but made no comment. Fortunately the other hobbits didn't seem to have heard her.

At last, two hours after sundown, for the road had indeed been muddy, they reached a large wooden facade, which Frodo said was the main entrance gate to Bree.

The rain now positively tipping down, the ten companions looked furtively to both sides of the road, then ran over to the gate. Emma, being the closest, raised a hand and knocked loudly on the large peep-through. A couple of seconds later, a grizzled old man with a large nose opened it suspiciously. When he saw the face of a woman he opened the whole door quickly. He looked surprised at seeing her there, and even more so to see the large group behind her.

"What do you want?" he grumbled.

"We're heading for the Prancing pony." answered Frodo.

"Hobbits!" the man exclaimed as he noticed Frodo's stature, sounding more surprised than ever. "Four hobbits and six human companions. Straight from the Shire too, judging by your talk. What business brings you to Bree?"

"We wish to stay at the Inn." Emma said curtly, fed up of standing in the rain. "Our business is our own."

"Alright, young missy, I meant no offence." the watchman grumbled, shuffling back to let them through. " 'S my job to ask questions after nightfall. There's been talk of strange folk abroad; can't be too careful."

The ten stepped into Bree and walked up the road, looking around for the sign of the Prancing Pony. The village of Bree was the first normal-looking establishment the six from Storybrooke had seen since their arrival in Middle-Earth. Everything did seem to have been designed around the middle-ages though, and the citizens appeared to play the part, too: every human they saw as the searched for the inn was filthy, soaked, and in all manners repulsive. Emma once even stumbled back into David because a fat man eating a carrot burped in her face.

At last, Merry spotted a large faded sign with, unsurprisingly, a prancing horse on it. Sighing with relief, the ten companions entered the building, removing hoods and shaking water from their faces.

Frodo approached the counter and attracted someone's attention. A chubby, ruddy-faced, burly middle-aged man leaned over, having to look twice before he spotted Frodo.

"Oh, good evening, little master!" he exclaimed brightly. "Butterbur's the name, at you service. If you're be looking for accommodation we have very nice, cosy, hobbit-sized rooms if you'd like, Mr - er..." he paused, looking enquiringly at Frodo.

"... Underhill." Frodo stuttered. "My name is Underhill."

Butterbur looked thoughtful. "Underhill, hmm..."

"We'd like some regular human-sized rooms too, please." Frodo continued quickly. "We're friends of Gandalf the Grey, can you tell him we've arrived?"

Butterbur frowned, thinking. It looked like hard work.

"Gandalf ?... _Gandalf..._ Oh, _yes_. Elderly chap, big grey beard, pointy hat." he said triumphantly, looking at Frodo for confirmation.

The latter nodded eagerly.

Butterbur frowned a little again, this time in confusion.

"Not seen him in six months."

**Until next time, my faithful friends!**

**Ok, just to be clear, I've just reposted all chapters, so that in theory all spelling and grammar mistakes should be corrected by now. Hope you didn't rush onto here for no reason. Sorry.**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – Strider

Hello everyone!

Just so everybody knows, I've now started college (high school for you Americans), so I will definitely not have as much time on my hands from now on; I know that updates weren't too frequent before (he-he, sorry), and that was because I posted chapters as soon as they were finished before I started the next one. But now, with five A-Levels ahead of me, most my time will be occupied with homework and research, so I apologize for the fact that I will most probably not be able to update as often as I am now.

I had never realized just how right older students were when they said just how different and how much harder it would be to keep up with all the work…

So you lucky younger readers, make the most of your relaxing days at school, listening to all your batty old teachers; you'll miss it later!

Another little note: I know I'm not following the exact script; please forgive me, I just feel that if I followed everything by-the-letter too much, the story would get horrendously boring! Which it hopefully isn't and won't be…

Anyway, on with the story!

Crestfallen and totally discouraged, the ten companions numbly let themselves be guided to their rooms, where they dumped their packs and luggage. The three women were sharing a room, the men another, and the hobbits were allocated a room to themselves as well.

Emma plonked herself of the squeaky mattress, refusing to believe the evidence that their sole reason for coming here had in fact let them down; without Gandalf, what were they going to do now?

"Do you think he's been delayed?" asked Mary-Margaret anxiously.

"Oh, he's undoubtedly been delayed." said Regina flatly, folding her scarf and laying it carefully on her bed. "Otherwise he'd be here, wouldn't he?"

Emma looked pensively up at the ceiling, where there was an interesting mixture of cobwebs and plaster cracks, making almost marble-like patterns.

"I just hope he hasn't got hurt," continued Mary-Margaret, now wringing her hands in worry, "he seemed such a nice old man."

Emma shrugged. "He's a wizard; he probably has a good reason for being late." she said, trying to reassure herself as well as her friend... mother... roommate. Emma frowned, frustrated at her reluctant brain; she was going to have to get a grip on herself one of these days and start referring to David and Mary-Margaret as her parents, no matter how awkward or painful it was for her pride and memory.

Exhausted and still damp as the three women undoubtedly were, they were also very hungry and in need of warmth, as the room had no fireplace. So Emma and Mary-Margaret went down together, Regina having assured them she would join them later.

"More likely she doesn't want to look like she's friends with us." muttered Emma as she and Mary-Margaret walked down the creaky old staircase. Mary-Margaret nodded sadly in agreement.

The two women found their companions around a large wooden table, each with a pint of beer in front of them - in Hook's case, three - and gloomy looks on their features. They joined them wordlessly, and the group sat there in silence for a few minutes. Merry then came to join them, looking thrilled and carefully carrying a large frothing mug, which he set down reverently as he reached the table.

"What's that?" Pippin demanded, goggling at the large mug.

"This, my friend, is a pint." said Merry gleefully.

"It comes in pints?"

"Mm!" sounded Merry, now gulping the sacred drink down. Translation: "Yep!"

"I'm getting one." Pippin immediately said, abandoning his seat and half-finished mug of ale to make his way over to the bar.

As Pippin scurried off to get his drink, Sam leaned in towards Frodo. "That fellow's done nothing but stare at you since we arrived." he said, pointing at the far corner of the room.

Frodo and Emma glanced discretely in the direction Sam had pointed. A man, hooded and cloaked, face hidden in the shadows, was smoking a pipe. He was indeed also unabashedly staring at Frodo.

Frodo nudged Butterbur, who was bustling by, carrying a tray full of mugs.

"Excuse me," he whispered, "That man in the corner. Who is he?"

Butterbur looked, than turned back to Frodo, looking nervous. "He's one of them Rangers, from the North." he muttered. "Dangerous folk they are, roaming the wilds. What his right name is I've never heard, but around here he's known as Strider."

"Strider." Frodo said vaguely, staring into nothingness. Emma suspected he was fiddling with the Ring, because both his hands were under the table, and Frodo seemed to be far away in his thoughts. Ignoring as best as she could the sudden urge to dive under and grab it for herself, she instead turned her attention to a friendly hobbit waiter, who was complaining to Sam about the bizarre clients he sometimes had in his inn.

" - 'ad a lady in 'ere as well, looked like a blimming 'aradrim princess. Dark skin, long back 'air. 'Ad a man with 'er, though 'e was jest your ordinary chap; quite pale, see. 'E 'ad a strange accent, though, 'bit like your friends', so not from 'ere, obviously. A married couple, I thought, 'cause they were talking 'bout a kid they had wiv 'em. Didn' see 'im, though. Would've liked ter see the offspring of an East and West couple though, shame..."

Emma choked on her drink, spraying Sam, who was in front of her. She grabbed the hobbit's shirt, jerking him backwards.

"What did you say?" she asked croakily. "Who did you see?"

He stared at her, bewildered by the urgency in her voice and the intensity of her glare.

"Like I said, young ma'am." he said nervously. "A couple; one dark, one pale. They had a kid wiv 'em, judging by their talk - strange accent too."

"When did you see them?" Emma said weakly, her heart hammering at her chest.

"Why - a week or so, maybe - pr'aps nine days." he said, actually quite liking all the attention now that the whole table was listening. "Seemed mighty tired, looked like they were trav'lling, see. Old master Butterbur sometimes don't trust 'is memory, so 'e might not be able ter confirm, but these fellas were 'bout as memorable as flying olliphaunts." he chuckled, and moved away to wait on his other clients.

Emma exchanged an incredulous look with her parents; could luck have favoured them at last? Could luck - pure luck, lead them to her son? Greg and Tamara here in Middle-Earth... Proof at last! Emma looked at the hobbit again, now handing Pippin a large mug of ale. She glanced back at Mary-Margaret, wordlessly asking for her opinion. He mother nodded encouragingly, and Emma climbed off the bench and headed straight for the little waiter. She cornered him at the end of the bar once he'd finished serving a client.

"What else do you know of them? Speak!" she demanded the now-positively-alarmed hobbit, echoing Gandalf.

"I - well...just that...they - er," he spluttered, "they said...they said somm'ing about getting food fer the boy - yes, the kid was a boy - and...that they'd have ter leave soon, to go somewhere..." he stuttered, sweat now beading on his forehead, highly uncomfortable at being interrogated so fiercely - and by a woman, at that.

"Where? Where did they say they were going?" Emma exclaimed, her mind racing, her heart beating a tattoo on the inside of her chest.

"Well...I...I don' know!" the little hobbit wailed. "they didn' say exactly...poor old Nob, 'is memory isn' as good as when 'e was young either - they said somm'ing...somm'ing about walking east for a while, and about a Ford, and..."

He paused, looking suspiciously at Emma, who was still holding the front of his shirt like a vice.

" 'Ere," he said, a little more loudly. "Why's you int'rested 'bout them, eh? Just innocent travellers, 'ent they?"

Emma's brain was racing ahead, so she barely registered the hobbit's sudden change in attitude. Her auto-concealing nature immediately kicked in though, spinning an excuse before she even had to think about it.

"Oh...sorry. I didn't mean to sound angry." she said, smiling apologetically. "it's just... they're our friends, and we were supposed to meet them here; but we were delayed, so the fact that they aren't waiting for use here kind of made us worry." she finished, smiling sweetly at the hobbit, who cheered up instantly.

"Oh, well in that case... Well ma'am, I jest 'eard 'em say somefink 'bout going towards the Ford." he said. "But nothin' else, ma'am, honest!" he finished nervously, clearly frightened Emma would grab his shirt again.

Emma smiled at him, releasing him and apologising again for her gruffness.

"Thank you very much for your help." she added. "I'm so grateful - really."

The hobbit smiled nervously at her in return, then scurried off to serve more impatient clients. Vaguely wondering how hobbits in Middle-Earth could have the same accent than people from the outskirts of London, Emma made her way dazedly back to the table. Most of her mind was reeling with the information she'd just extricated from the hobbit, and the hope - along with all the worry that had died down slightly since their arrival - was coming back tenfold.

She quickly recounted what she'd learned to her companions. David and Margaret grinned, happy to be back on a trail; Hook however, didn't even look remotely hopeful or excited, and opened his mouth to say something.

"What?" snapped Emma before he could speak. "Going to say we're not even sure it's them that hobbit saw?"

"No. Actually I was going to say that I hoped your boy was alright." he replied coolly. "Because if they're not even letting him see other people, he's as good as their prisoner. And from my experience, prisoners don't usually get treated very well."

Emma barely had time to digest that new and rather morbid side of things before they heard a familiar voice shouting exactly what it shouldn't be.

"Baggins? Sure, I know a Baggins! He's over there; Frodo Baggins. He's my first cousin once removed on his mother's side, and my fourth cousin -"

"Pippin! Be quiet!" cried Frodo, rushing over to his talkative cousin. He grabbed his shoulder and jerked him back.

Pippin stumbled and almost dropped his pint. "Steady on, Frodo!" he sputtered, foam and ale dripping from his face.

Frodo, thrown off balance by Pippin's stumble, slipped, fell...and disappeared into thin air.

Everyone who saw the incident gasped, and cries of astonishment resounded across the inn. "Where'd'e go?" Nob was shouting, bobbing behind the counter, trying to get a look.

Frodo's companions, who by now had understood this had been Bilbo's trick, were less surprised, but just as concerned as to the hobbit's whereabouts. Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw someone - a very tall someone - get up and march to where Frodo had disappeared. She looked more carefully, and recognised the someone to be the Ranger Butterbur had mentioned earlier - Strider.

Suddenly, Frodo reappeared under a table, looking thoroughly relieved.

Tapping Sam, Pippin, and Merry on the arm, Emma discretely pointed at the Ranger, who by now had grabbed Frodo by the arm and started hauling him away from the room. He dragged him to the small staircase Emma and her mother had come down earlier and pushed him up the stairs.

Emma got up as quietly as she could (not that anyone would have heard her if she'd not been careful - the room was still buzzing with Frodo's disappearance) and followed the pair upstairs, the three hobbits tailing her closely. She nicked an inebriated Hook's sword on her way, preferring to face a Ranger with at least some sort of weapon. The hobbits seemed to be thinking along the same lines: Emma saw Merry and Pippin pick up a stool and a candlestick respectively, and Sam crack his knuckles.

Together, they crept up the stairs and slowly advanced in the corridor, listening for voices or anything that could give away Frodo and his abductor's location. Emma pressed her ear gently to each door, before at last hearing low voices in one of them. Adrenalin now coursing through her veins, she waved the hobbits over and kicked the door open, brandishing Hook's sword.

The Ranger whirled around, pointing a sword of his own at her with astonishing speed. Emma was surprised to see how - well...un-evil he looked. She'd imagined someone much like the unkempt men drinking downstairs. He was indeed very tall, had a lean frame, longish dark hair that was seriously in need of a wash, and piercing grey eyes.

For his part, he looked startled to see a woman before him, and his surprise turned to bewilderment as Sam waved his fists in front of the man, shouting "Let him go or I'll have you, Longshanks!"

The man recovered quickly however and sheathed his sword again. He even smiled grimly.

"You have a stout heart, little hobbit. But that will not save you." He turned to Frodo. "You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo. They are coming."

At that moment, Mary-Margaret, David, Hook and Gold rushed inside the room. Well, Hook stumbled in. He had to lean against the door for support.

"We thought we heard raised voices." explained Mary-Margaret in response to her daughter's raised eyebrows.

"Just as well we did, really." added David, eyeing Strider darkly.

The Ranger raised his hands - the universal gesture of surrender and peace. This only made Emma even more suspicious, and she raised Hook's sword even higher.

"Peace." Strider said quietly. "I mean no harm to any of you. Least of all to Frodo."

"What makes you think we'll believe you?" Emma shot at him, inwardly cringing at how cliché she sounded.

"Well, for a start Frodo is here, perfectly unharmed." Strider said dryly. "I can assure you I'd have had had plenty of time to hurt him had I wanted to do so while we were alone."

"What do you want?" David growled.

"A little more caution from all of you." Strider said. "You have drawn far too much attention to yourselves already. Forcing information out of a hobbit, talking about relatives to complete strangers and disappearing inexplicably in front of two dozen witnesses are hardly discrete." he finished admonishingly.

Emma's sole response to this was a raised eyebrow.

"Also," Strider continued quickly, probably realising he wasn't making any friends here, "I am a friend of Gandalf the Grey. He told me he would meet you at the Prancing Pony in Bree, and also what one of the Halflings who travelled with you would be carrying."

Emma lowered the sword slightly, listening with all her might to the man's words. Her lying detector wasn't ringing any alarm bells, and indeed the man looked honest.

"Emma, what are you doing?" cried Mary-Margaret. "You heard Butterbur, he's dangerous! We can't go around trusting people as soon as they say they're friends with Gandalf!"

Emma bit her lip. Her mother had a point; she shouldn't trust too easily, especially not in a world she knew next to nothing about. And yet...

"He says he knows what Frodo carries." Emma said slowly, still not letting her gaze leave the Ranger and knowing full well she had just confirmed that Frodo was indeed carrying something.

Mary-Margaret hesitated, looking like she wanted to find another reason for not trusting Strider, but Gold beat her to it.

"The friend of a friend isn't necessarily our friend, Miss Swan." he argued. "We are here for one reason and one only: to meet the wizard. We mustn't go anywhere or with anyone else."

Before Emma could respond however, Strider spoke again.

"Before you make a hasty judgment of me, at least hear the words I have to say." he said urgently. "I took Mr Baggins (Yes, I know he's really called Baggins) out of the common room because believe or not, those men down there aren't all villagers enjoying a drink. A lot of them are being paid for keeping their eyes peeled for you; the old gatekeeper, a few men of the South, and that old crook Bill Ferny. Frodo has already almost disappeared; making him vanish from an inn would hardly be a difficult feat."

Emma's grip on the sword shifted uneasily. "We're being followed?" she asked, frowning.

Strider shook his head. "Not followed, no. But you're wanted, searched for."

"And you're a friend of Gandalf, you say?" asked Frodo suspiciously. "You know him?"

"As well as anyone can know a wizard." Strider said with a queer smile. "But yes, I do. It was on his request that I have been keeping a lookout for you here for four days. He said if he was not there then he had been delayed, and that I was instead to lead you the rest of the way."

"Rest of the way?" asked Emma weakly. More walking? "What d'you mean, rest of the way? We've been walking for five bloody days!"

Strider shook his head impatiently.

"Later." he said. "We need to hurry, we have little time. I know what hunts you, and they were summoned when Frodo put the Ring on - Yes, I also know of the Ring - and they will be here within an hour."

The sword Emma was carrying was now pointing at the ground. "Black Riders." she whispered.

Strider nodded grimly and opened his mouth to explain more, but was interrupted by the arrival of Regina, who was looking annoyed and worried.

"There you are!" she said crossly. "You said you'd all be downst-" she stopped when she saw Strider and Emma's drawn sword. "What's going on?" she demanded. "Who are you?"

"A friend of Gandalf. He - " Frodo started to explain, but was cut off by Strider, who was shaking his head again. "Later. You are all in grave danger, we need to move. Now."

0o0o0o0o0o0

Fifteen minutes later, they were all - Strider included - in a room of the inn opposite the Prancing Pony. It was a regular room, but eleven people with seven of them being fully-grown adults made space very scant. The four hobbits were dozing on the large bed while David and Mary-Margaret were sitting on a single bed nodding off in each others' arms. Hook was sitting on a chair near the door - sleeping the ale off - and Gold was on another next to the window, opposite Strider. Emma and Regina were sitting next to each other on the other single bed. Emma had told Regina in whispers about what she'd learned about Greg and Tamara. Regina had brightened considerably, and the two were currently wracking their brains to figure out what their next step could be.

They were debating in whispers what the 'Ford' they had learned about could possibly be, when Strider suddenly raised a hand to silence them. They stopped talking immediately, knowing that their hunters had found them at last. They waited with bated breath, and heard the sound of galloping hooves, which came to a sudden stop in front of their inn.

A sudden wave of cold and despair overwhelmed the inhabitants of the small room, and they all found themselves frozen still, unable to move with fright.

They heard clattering metal boots thundering into the inn across from them. Still they waited. All the humans – except Hook – were alert and wary. The hobbits, though, were sleeping peacefully by now, and the cold despair apparently had no effect on them in their sleep.

Suddenly, an inhumane shriek – several inhumane shrieks – resounded across the town, easily reaching the ears of the company. The hobbits and Hook jerked awake, looking around fearfully for the source of the noise.

Frodo sat up, looking at Strider.

"What are they?" he asked quietly, voicing everybody's thoughts.

Strider looked up from the window, his face grim.

"They were once men." he said softly. "Great kings of men. Then Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine Rings of Power. One by one, they fell into darkness, blinded as they were by their greed and desire for power. They are slaves to his will now. They are the Nazgúl – Ringwraiths - neither living nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the Ring, drawn to its power. They will never stop hunting you."

On that rather gloomy end note, the company settled down again as best as they could, trying to get some sleep before another trying day ahead of them.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Emma stumbled to a tree, clinging to it, feeling like her legs were about to either burn away or collapse beneath her. Each breath she struggled to suck in was like driving a knife through her ribs, and she could barely stand for tiredness.

It was the tenth hill at least they had climbed that day, and this one was particularly steep. The was only one good thing about their current climb: Hook was so out of breath himself that he didn't have any left to slide in infuriating innuendos or snide comments on anybody's physical fitness.

They had left Bree at dawn that morning, walking out the gate before the sun had even risen. It had taken tugs, pushes, and finally a cup of cold water to get Emma out of the cosy bed she had been sleeping in, and she was none too pleased to start walking all day again. Indeed, the only thing that kept her going was the thought of Henry. The few vague things she had learned of his whereabouts the night before had rekindled a fire of hope in her again. She kept telling herself that the more land they covered, the more chances they had of finding him. Regina was in much the same state, although her status as former queen (mostly secret in this world) kept her from swearing or grumbling as much - and badly - as Emma was.

They were in the middle of climbing their eleventh hill when Merry struck up the same conversation they'd had five times before.

"But how do we know this Strider really is a friend of Gandalf?" he asked for the umpteenth time.

Mary-Margaret sighed in exasperation. The hobbit just wouldn't drop the subject.

"Because," she said as patiently and as quietly as she could, "he knows about the Ring, he knows that Frodo's the one carrying it, and he knows that Gandalf was meeting us in Bree. I don't think someone like Gandalf would confide such secrets to someone he didn't completely trust."

"But how do we know he's really leading us to where Gandalf wanted us to go?" Merry persisted.

Mary-Margaret resisted the strong temptation of facepalming. Her education as a princess was only just about planted firmly enough in her mind to restrain her from such behaviour. Just.

"I think a servant of the enemy would look fairer, but feel fouler." said Frodo quietly.

Emma, who was right behind him, snorted (She hadn't received any princess education). Those Nazgúl hadn't seemed very fair to her.

"He's foul enough." Merry mumbled.

"Be that as it may," said Frodo calmly, "we have no choice but to trust him."

"Should I take it that I look foul but feel fair then, Masters Meriadoc and Baggins?" called Strider, who was way ahead of them - at the front, in fact, of the whole company. He didn't turn around, but Emma though she could hear the smile in his voice. Merry and Frodo blushed slightly.

Five minutes later, it was Sam who took up Merry's lead to be annoyingly persistent.

"But where's he leading us?" he asked for the tenth time.

"To Rivendell, Master Gamgee." answered Strider, who once again seemed to have developed super-human hearing.

"Did you hear that? Rivendell! We're going to see the elves!"

Emma smiled at the hobbit's enthusiasm, though she was sure she'd misheard him; surely he didn't say 'elves'?

She was soon distracted by that line of thought, however, when Pippin decided to smack the pony's flank – they'd bought him in Bree just before they'd left. The pony – a skinny, gangrel creature - visibly used to such treatment, immediately darted forward and knocked over David and Sam. It took them ten minutes to catch up with the pony - whom Sam had christened Bill – and none of them were particularly pleased with Pippin when they finally had.

All day, they walked. At night they stopped under a large oak to sleep, and set off again early in the morning. Most of the company was silent by now, either too tired to summon the energy to talk or simply wary of the hobbits' never-ending conversations about pipeweed and mushrooms. It was safer to say nothing, that way they couldn't get started.

They walked thus for another day-and-a-half, until they reached a bog Strider called "the Midgewater Marshes".

They were aptly named, Emma thought wryly, as she slapped at her face continually to swipe out any inquisitive insects.

"What do they eat" - slap – "when they can't get" – slap – "hobbit?" called Merry.

"Humans." – slap - answered Emma flatly.

That night, they stopped on a reasonably dry stretch of land – hard mud with long coarse grass and a few plants growing on it. The group lied down, once more exhausted by the day's walking. Emma, however, couldn't sleep. Tired as she was, she simply couldn't shut her eyes and get them to remain so.

The moonlight illuminated everything around her, and she saw Strider clearly. He was obviously just coming back from a hunting session: he had a large deer slung over his shoulder and still held a bow in his hand.

She watched him in silence as he lowered the animal to the ground and started to empty its innards, cleaning the meat and separating bits from others, putting yet some more aside for cooking. It was a long, messy business from what Emma could see; it took him at least an hour.

Only when had he completely finished did he wash his hands, sit down and light a pipe of his own. He had his back to her, but she could see the smoke rising from his dark silhouette. She heard snatches of a melody he was humming, and she liked it. She didn't recognise the tune of course - otherwise that would just be creepy - but she liked the sound of the long, wavering notes intermitted with sweet little tunes. The overall effect though, was one of great sadness and loss. The song was obviously a lament. In her world, medieval laments were usually about beautiful young heroes who fell in love with each other but who could never truly be together. She wondered if it was the same here.

"Who is she?" she whispered almost before she'd thought it. "This woman you sing of?"

Strider didn't turn around, but he stopped humming.

" 'Tis the tale of the Lady Luthien." he murmured, "An elf maiden who gave her love to Beren, a mortal."

"Let me guess: she died?" said Emma.

Strider nodded sadly. He turned around this time.

"You should get some sleep, Emma." He said softly.

Emma shrugged.

"That's just it," she said, trying to sound casual. "I can't. I've tried. Must be these damn legs; they've had too much walking and they've found a way to tell me they don't want to do any more."

If Strider found her manner of speech odd, he gave no indication of it. He merely smiled a little and turned back to staring in front of him. They were silent for a few minutes.

"You're worried about your son." Strider said. It wasn't a question.

Surprised, Emma looked up at him.

"How did you – oh, right. The hearing thing."

She felt stupid. Strider had already shown them on a few occasions that he could hear better than them. She supposed he had heard her speculations with Regina that night at the inn.

"Well – yeah, I'm worried about him. Of course I am; what mother wouldn't be?" she mumbled, very conscious of the fact that she had been that mother less than two years ago. "Not really worried for his safety, though. He's a bright boy: I've seen him get out of tight spots on more than one occasion. And I don't think they'd harm him, they have no reason to."

She was mostly talking to herself by now, barely conscious that Strider too was listening.

"But you worry because he is your son." Strider said quietly.

Emma said nothing, but nodded. She was slightly taken aback by this guy's attitude; first he abducted Frodo, then he pledged his service as a guide to them, then he was helping her sort out her fears for Henry. It was completely unexpected, but Emma found she welcomed it.

"I'm just scared I'll never see him again." she whispered. "That almost happened a few months ago, and… I'd never get over it."

Strider nodded understandingly.

"When I was but a child," he started, "my mother was always concerned for my safety; whenever I was out hunting or didn't come back for a few days, she would get scared, and she remained so until I came back. As I grew up, I found out that this world indeed had reasons for her to worry about my welfare – people as well as creatures. I grew in both mind and body, strengthening and training in war. But no matter how I practiced and improved, she would always worry about me."

He looked at her and smiled sadly.

" 'Tis the burden of a mother: to watch her child grow up to face the dangers of the world." he said softly.

Emma smiled back, until a sudden idea came to her. She sat up and crawled over to him, dragging her blanket after her and pulling it across her shoulders – the nights were getting colder.

"Hey – Strider, listen. You wouldn't know of any Ford around here, would you?"

Strider frowned. "Come again?"

Emma briefly recounted what she'd learned at the Prancing Pony and how that helped them on their search for Henry, omitting everything about Greg and Tamara except that they were the ones who'd kidnapped her son.

When she'd finished, Strider gave her the same sort of look Gandalf had when she had first told him their story. Clear, but surprisingly understanding, and which seemed to know what you were keeping from them. Emma internally squirmed, uncomfortable under such scrutiny.

At last, he dropped his gaze to look once more over the calm marshes.

"Ford… a ford…hmm…I wonder…" he murmured, stroking his lip with the stem of his pipe.

Emma glanced up hopefully. "Does that mean anything to you?" she asked.

Strider still appeared to be lost in thought, and didn't answer right away. He hesitated slightly before he did.

"I may have…one idea of what it could be," he said quietly, "but there is every chance that I am wrong. I will not say what right now, but I will tell you when the time seems fit."

Emma swallowed back down a lump of bitter disappointment. For a moment, she'd thought Strider would have the answer, the solution to the torturous riddles that had revolved in her mind since Bree. She was forced, however, to go back to her endless questions and wayless wonderings.

Possibly Strider saw the disappointment on her face, because he chuckled softly.

"Do not be angry, Emma." he said. "I am merely abstaining from telling you because I do not wish for you to be disappointed lest I be wrong. Do not grieve for what you do not know, else you will soon have the world's burdens on your mind."

He smiled again, and turned back to the marshes.

After a few more minutes of silence Emma - suddenly very sleepy - thanked him quietly and returned to her parent's side, lying down on the hard mud. As soon as she nestled her head in the crook of her arm, she fell in a deep sleep, full of happy dreams of memories with her son.

0o0o0o0o0o0

The next day was just as damp and drab as the previous one, and the company squelched on, no longer complaining, but certainly thinking of and longing for baths and warm beds.

Neither Strider nor Emma made any illusion to their conversation the night before, something which made Emma feel both relieved and disappointed. She was embarrassed to have opened herself so much in front of him, and yet she was constantly on the lookout for some sign that he was going to reveal his hunch on the mysterious Ford.

Emma kept reviewing their conversation in her mind; again and again, wondering why she had even dared to talk to him about what had been bothering her. She knew, both from her companions and her own memories just how shut her mind and life had become since Neal's betrayal. She had trained herself to stay unconcerned and unfeeling through the years, in order to never feel that pain - such pain… she had sworn never to reveal herself to anyone ever again; and yet Strider, a complete stranger to her, plus a man none of them knew for sure just where his allegiances lay, had – with a few simple, quiet words – made her speak as openly as though her oath had never occurred.

He made no such sign however, and Emma spent the day wearily walking on, vaguely listening to the conversations around her but mostly daydreaming about her son.

That afternoon, they at last reached the borders of the Marshes. The sight of dry, solid land was enough to lift everybody's spirits, and even though Strider said that they would have to continue walking until sunset - at which point they would hopefully have reached Amon-Súl – nothing lowered their morale.

At last, when the sky was an endless stretch of orange and pink and the company had climbed another steep hill, Strider halted and bade them look to the horizon, where another mound rose against the clear sky. From what the large group could see, this had some sort of building on it - although it was clear that time had weathered it away, leaving grey, tumbling ruins.

"This was once the great Watch-Tower of Amon-Súl. Long has it stood there, a strong landmark for any weary traveller seeking a familiar sight." said Strider, staring vehemently at the crumbling tower. He turned to the others. "We shall rest here tonight."

Emma considered the once-great stronghold, and she thought she could see the original shape of the tower, which seemed to be some sort of crown. She wondered why anyone would make a tower crown-shaped. She opened her mouth to ask Strider, but found that everybody had already moved on. She hurried off to join them, scrambling down the slippery, dew-laden grass.

Amon-Súl had looked pretty impressive from their previous point of view, but it was only when the company arrived at its foot that they truly realised the size and height of it. Emma's heart sank at the thought of more climbing – and this time there were massive boulders to clamber over as well.

At last, when the sky had darkened to ash grey, the company sank on the ground of the ledge of stone they had found to rest on. Strider immediately set to scouting the immediate outskirts of their camp.

Emma rolled her eyes.

"Doesn't he ever get tired?" he asked the others disbelievingly, though inwardly she could only admire their guide's stamina.

"Trust me, I've been asking myself the same question since we left Bree." said David, who was leaning against the stone wall with his eyes closed. Mary-Margaret was sitting next to him, wincing as she carefully removed her shoes. It was clear her feet were in dire need of rest: they were swollen and rubbed raw from the endless walking. She let out a sigh of relief and pleasure as she placed her sore feet on the cool stone ground.

An hour later, Strider was back. He was carrying a large parcel in his arms, wrapped in a large cloth. He dropped his load on the ground before them, unwrapping the cover to show them the content. Inside it was a rather large assortment of swords, all with scabbards on. Four were quite small, while the other five were quite as long as Strider's own.

"These are for you." Strider said, handing a short sword to each of the hobbits and a long one to David, Mary-Margaret, Emma, Gold and Regina - Hook already had one. "Keep them close."

"Where did you get these?" Emma asked in wonder, pulling the scabbard off her own weapon and examining the long blade. It was quite roughly made, and although she was no expert she could tell it probably needed sharpening.

"This was a watchtower." answered Strider. "It had a storeroom for weapons and food alike. The food is gone now, but there were still some weapons left."

With that, he grabbed his own sword and bow and announced that he was going hunting.

Emma was still examining her new weapon. She hefted it experimentally, finding it quite heavy and cumbersome. Still, it was a sword, and it would undoubtedly come in useful. Emma shuddered as she thought of the Black Riders – the Nazgúl. There was no doubt she would need it if they came across those again.

Emma vaguely heard Mary-Margaret asking Strider to go hunting along with him. Looking up quickly, she saw Strider glance back at her mother, hesitation and surprise on his features.

"You should rest." he said, eyeing her doubtfully. "You have walked all day, there is no need to come with me. Besides, are you quite sure you would-"

Mary-Margaret cut him off, looking annoyed. "Just because I am a woman doesn't mean I can't hunt, nor does it mean I am too tired to do so after a day's walking." She snapped. "If I have a bow, I can be quite as deadly as you are with a sword. Now answer me clearly: can I go hunting with you or not?" she finished, with a glare Medusa herself would be proud of.

On either side of her, David and Hook grinned at Strider, who was looking utterly nonplussed.

"There's no arguing with her when she's in this mood, mate. Trust me, I know." David said, grinning. "I'd let her go, if you ask me."

Strider looked at David, his face still so dumbfounded it was quite comical. At last he chuckled.

"Lady, remind me never to cross you again. To do so would be profoundly unwise, let alone dangerous." He laughed again and sat down on a boulder, patiently waiting for her to put her boots on again.

They were about to leave when Emma had a sudden idea. She clambered to her feet again - ignoring the dull ache in said dear tootsies – and ran after the pair.

"Hey! Strider! Wait up!"

The two turned to face her; Strider was looking surprised again – not to mention impatient - but Mary-Margaret grinned at her daughter. No doubt she knew that her daughter would follow.

Strider opened his mouth to say something, but Emma beat him to it.

"Listen," she cut across him. "I'll go hunting with you; if I kill something you have to tell me what your idea about the Ford was. Deal?"

Strider was looking at both women alternately, disbelief growing on his face. Then he shook his head.

"No." he said firmly. "You're staying here; you have no experience hunting, although I gather Mary-Margaret here does. I usually go alone: to bring two other people along would greatly diminish my chances of killing any prey. We need as much food as we can get."

Emma shrugged, completely unconcerned at his words.

"Oh sure, I don't know much about hunting." She said nonchalantly. "But if I go I'll stay with Mary-Margaret, and I gather she does. So you go hunting alone - like usual - while we girls go by ourselves. That way we don't disturb you, we each get a fair chance of killing prey, and there's more chance of us actually getting something if we spread out."

Strider began to say something, but Emma knew what he was going to say and interrupted him again.

"We won't get lost; Mary-Margaret had to survive for years in a forest." She insisted. "She knows what she's doing."

Strider passed a hand over his face, trying very hard not to lose his temper at these two infuriating women. He sighed.

"Deal." He said flatly. "But you're on your own, and if there is the slightest possible chance that you actually win this bargain – which I doubt – do not blame me if you are disappointed."

Emma knew what he was talking about and just nodded. Mary-Margaret on the other hand, had no idea what they were on about. She showed so by raising her eyebrows at her daughter, who grinned a little guiltily.

"Let the best team win!" Emma cried, grabbing her friend by the arm and dragging her towards the woods near the crumbling tower. She heard Strider grumbling as he too made his way over to the woods.

Ten minutes later, mother and daughter were walking in the woods. Well - Snow was creeping, Emma was walking (and swearing at the brambles that caught her clothes). Twice, Mary-Margaret shot fat hares, to the delight of Emma.

"Sam's going to enjoy cooking these." she said happily, stowing the furry creatures in a leather bag she had brought along.

Mary-Margaret smiled too, but clearly her heart wasn't in it. She fixed a beady eye on her daughter.

"Emma, what's going on?" she demanded. "Why this deal? Why your sudden interest in hunting?"

Emma shrugged. "You offered to go, too." she pointed out.

Mary-Margaret shot her a don't-give-me-that look. "Because I wanted to, Emma. I wanted to shoot arrows again, there's nothing strange about that."

Emma snorted. "Yeah, sure. There's nothing strange about wanting to shoot animals in the dark. I don't know which world you're referring to, but it certainly isn't ours."

"And what world are you living in, Emma?" Mary-Margaret retorted, angry now. "Do you think only you can save your son?"

Emma stared at her, completely nonplussed. "What are you talking about?" she asked, bemused.

"I'm talking about you keeping things from us!" her mother snapped. "What is going on? Don't you think you could tell me what your plan is? That I could be allowed to know about your deal with Strider?"

Emma shrugged, concerned with her friend's sudden anger, but not feeling in the mood to share what she and Strider had discussed the night before.

Mary-Margaret gaped at her daughter as she hefted the bag containing the hares on her shoulder.

"When are you going to accept that Henry is probably almost impossible to retrieve by now?" she cried. "We have no idea where they are, nor what they're doing, nor why they've got him. Why do you keep pretending that all this is just a small expedition in the wild to get your son back, without ever planning ahead, without listening to others' opinions? How do you expect us to help and respect you if you don't confide in us – or even listen to us?"

Tears were gathering in Mary-Margaret's eyes by now, as she poured out everything that had saddened her about her daughter since their arrival in Middle-Earth.

"Everyone from our land came here to help you get Henry back, Emma. Don't shut us out."

"He's my son." Emma said flatly. "It's my duty to find him. I'm the only one who should be."

Mary-Margaret grabbed her daughter's arm, turning her around forcefully. She glared at her furiously.

"Don't you make the mistake of thinking you are the only one here who cares for Henry." Mary-Margaret whispered. "We all do, and that's why we came with you."

"Then act like it!" snapped Emma. "Because until now, all you've done is sit around, arguing that we're far better relaxing in the countryside than setting off looking for Henry."

"Which any logical person would have done!" Mary-Margaret shouted back. "You charge in here, expecting everyone to be able to help, without even considering that there are perhaps others than you to help Henry here!" her mother exclaimed, the tears now leaking on her cheeks. "Your rashness and despair will be the death of us all! And Henry isn't worth that, Emma."

Emma straightened, her eyes boring in those of her mothers.

"You did not just say that." she whispered disbelievingly. "Tell me you didn't say that."

Mary-Margaret just shook her head sadly. "Again, you're letting your anger cloud your judgment. Of course I didn't mean Henry wasn't worth saving. But don't deny it, Emma. You only came on this journey – left the Shire - to find your son."

"Of course that's why I came! Why else?" Emma shouted indignantly. "I will stop at nothing until I have my son in my arms again. I though you knew that!"

"But there are others at stake, Emma!" her mother cried back. "Don't you realise? This journey isn't just about Henry; it's about saving Middle-Earth! And Frodo, Gandalf, Pippin, Merry, Bilbo, and all the wonderful people we've met so far!"

"But you won't see it." she continued quietly. "To you, there is only Henry."

Emma was getting angry too. Who was Mary-Margaret to tell her what to do?

"You have no right to say that," she snarled at her mother, "oh, you're so high and mighty - a princess! And of course, being a princess, you had to think of what was best for your people! You abandoned me, when I was just a baby! How dare you suggest that I do the same for my son?"

Her anger was gushing out as well, now. All the resentment, all the years of having felt unwanted were crashing back on her now.

"I gave up Henry when he was born to give him the best of chances, so that he wouldn't have to feel what I did all my life! And now that I had finally gotten him back, you're asking me to give him up again." She cried, burning tears welling up in her eyes as well. "I will get him back, and I will find Greg and Tamara."

"So you'll sacrifice your life to get your revenge?" Mary-Margaret cried. "Don't you know who you sound like?"

Emma turned away from Mary-Margaret, running into the forest, not knowing nor caring where she was going. She heard Mary-Margaret yelling at her retreating back.

"I'm not asking you to give up your search for your son, Emma! I'm asking to break your walls and see that there are others in this world as well! "

Emma ran on, sobbing freely as she stumbled in the woods, pushing brambles and branches out of the way. She didn't know how long she ran, she just knew she had to get away. At last, when every breath was like a knife through her ribs and every step was to much to bear, Emma sank to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.

She lay there, without knowledge of time nor space, her whole being concentrated on the immense sadness that stretched on around her. Her son, her darling son… was she ever going to see him again?

Mary-Margaret was right, Henry was almost certainly beyond their reach by now. But Emma couldn't bear the thought of never seeing her little boy again; from the very start she had maintained unwavering hope, telling herself that every step was bringing her closer to him.

But they had been in Middle-Earth for over a month now, and they still hadn't had any proof that Henry was here.

Now that her mind was overwhelmed with sadness and despair, every thread of hope and ray of light that had kept Emma going so far were shut out. Dark, hopeless thoughts wormed themselves into her mind, no longer fended off by her iron-hard hope. The hobbit at the inn had probably heard his clients wrong… they weren't the people they were looking for… Gold had been wrong: Greg and Tamara were in Neverland…

Eventually, when Emma had cried all her tears and her exhausted mind could keep her awake no longer, Emma slipped into an uneasy sleep. She was utterly drained both physically and mentally, and her body's only way to keep her alive was to shut her senses down for a while.

And so Emma fell into soft, dark oblivion. She didn't feel the sudden cold, nor did she hear her mother's anguished calls, and didn't even register the distant yells of her companions.

Aw, poor Emma. She's got a lot on her mind at the moment. I know she's not the kind to break down and cry, but a person has to have limits (oh, that's another thing: I despise Mary-Sues).

So yeah, guys, I might not be able to post much these next few months; I'll have loads of work to do. But please keep hanging on; who knows when I'll have time to post another chappie?

Now, I have to be honest: I was a little disappointed when I posted my last chapter, because I only got one review from you all. Of course, I'm not criticizing you, I'm just saying I would like some more feedback, please. The couple of ideas that some of you have suggested have really made a difference in my planning; which is great, but PLEASE I need more!

Anyway, enough of me moaning; you're all wonderful readers, and you mean the world to me, no matter your silence!

Until next time (I have no idea when).

Love you all!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 - The Road to Rivendell

Author's Note: Hi guys! Sorry about this very late update, I've only just finished this chapter.

I am probably the most insanely happy person right now; I realized just three days ago that OUAT season three had actually come out on SEPTEMBER 29th, not OCTOBER! So I've just spent the last three days happily basking in OUAT and all its glory. I almost squealed when I saw 'Good Form', I love the Captain Swan pairing! Soooo happy they're making it happen. I can't wait to see what Hook will do about Baelfire being alive!

Also - this is the last notification, I promise - I know I've changed a couple of locations in this chapter, but don't worry, it's on purpose. You'll see why if you read through it.

Hope you like it! Review review review! (please?)

Emma's eyes flew open. Something was wrong.

She was still on the ground, her cheek pressed on damp earth, and she could smell dead leaves. She turned her head towards the leaf-covered sky. It was pitch black.

Panicking, she scrambled to her feet, brushing away the trails of salt that her tears had left. She felt close to tears again now; where was she? How was she going to find her way back?

Emma cursed as she remembered how she'd run away from Mary-Margaret. Smart move, Emma. Now you're lost.

Emma paced around the small clearing she had collapsed in earlier, her mind working frantically, trying to find a solution to her predicament.

When she was little, about eight or nine, she had been taken into a family for a few months. Her seventh family. The man, a middle-aged university professor, had been extremely fond of riddles and problems of logic.

Emma recalled his kindly, jolly face, how his eyes had twinkled as he surveyed her over his spectacles, his amused expression as she puzzled out yet another riddle for him.

"Emma," he said, "what's the next step? What do you think you're going to do next?"

Nine-year-old Emma Swan pouted, her pink lower lip jutting out sulkily, the lines of the riddle in her little hands still depressingly obscure.

"I don't know." she mumbled. "This one's much harder than usual, Uncle Ted."

Her Uncle laughed.

"Honey, when you're lost, all you have to do is come back to the place you were stranded. You're nearly always bound to come across something familiar."

He smiled, his blue eyes twinkling as he watched her hesitate over the lines of the poem. Slowly, her eyes read the top line, jumped to the third, crossed to the seventh, returned to the fifth, and finally came to a rest on the last line. A grin spread across her small face, illuminating her features.

"Uncle Ted!" she cried. "I found it! I know the answer! It's-"

Uncle Ted quickly placed a hand on her lips, chuckling.

"Stop right there, sweetheart!" he said. "We don't want the rest of the world to know! I want the rest of the family to figure this one out. But I doubt they'll be able to." He smiled at the little girl in front of him. "You have a sharp mind, honey. I think you'll go far. One day, the name Emma Swan will be on the mind of a whole lot of people. You'll see."

The little girl smiled at him.

The adult Emma sighed at the memory of her well-loved Uncle Ted. He had been a kind man, always ready for a brain-challenge. Emma had only stayed with him and his sweet wife for three months. Sadly, she'd gotten the news two years later that he'd died of a heart-attack.

But Emma knew what to do now. Taking a deep breath, she took out a lighter from her pocket (she didn't quite know how it had ended up in her pocket since Storybrooke, but she sure was glad to have it) and clicked it into life. She twiddled the notch so that the small blue-tinged flame grew a little.

Fortunately for her, Emma hadn't left the Enchanted Forest without having picked up a couple of things. Right now, it was the hours of Mulan's patient tutoring that came to her mind. The warrior had shown her how to track animals during their stay in the forest. Emma hadn't been much good at it, but at least she could spot the most obvious of trails and follow them without much difficulty now.

She set about searching for her footprints, feeling slightly better now that she had some sort of idea what to do.

At last, after having found her own trail and followed it for what felt like hours, Emma came across a holly bush that struck her as familiar. She was sure this was where Mary-Margaret had shot the second hare. Emma gulped as she remembered that this was also where they had started their argument.

Emma's heart clenched as she recalled her shouting match with her mother. Her face flushed with shame as the things that had been said came back to her. Tears started to roll down her cheeks again. Deep down, Emma knew she was in the wrong; she knew just how selfishly and stubbornly she had behaved this past month or so. Her desperate search for her son had blinded her of others' opinions and feelings. She realized with a jolt that this was exactly what had happened when she had felt so incapable of staying in Storybrooke, before the curse broke.

As these painful thoughts and memories rotated in her mind, Emma walked hurriedly in the direction she and Mary-Margaret had come. Suddenly, a horribly familiar shriek resounded in the forest around her, followed by screams she was quite sure belonged to her companions.

Emma felt as though her stomach had suddenly turned to ice. She felt the sharp stabs of fear as she hurried in the direction of the noise. Now this might seem incredibly stupid to most people, but to Emma this was the only way of finding her companions again, so she ran on, knowing the sounds would lead her to the others.

At last, Emma burst out of the woods and ran up the hill, from which screams and sounds of battle could be heard more clearly every second. She scrambled over boulders and rocks, her breath now coming out in sharp gasps. Finally she reached the stone ledge they had used as a resting place and snatched her discarded sword from the ground.

The cold and despair that the Nazgúl emanated was now washing over her as she wrestled the blade out of its sheath - they were threatening to overwhelm her mind. Mentally clinging on to her wits with all her strength, Emma at last pulled the heavy sword free, and she sprinted up the crumbling stairs towards the top of the tower.

What she saw when she stumbled out of the narrow passage made her blood freeze and her knees feel weak.

Her companions, scattered across the rooftop, were all fighting no less than five Nazgúl. In a flash, Emma saw the hobbits huddled in a group - three of them valiantly trying to protect Frodo - her parents fighting back-to-back with a particularly tall Ringwraith, Hook holding his own against another and both Gold and Regina trying in vain to summon their powers to save themselves.

Adrenalin now forcing the fear from her system, Emma ran to her parents. With a yell, she blocked a blow that had been about to decapitate Mary-Margaret. The added force of her speed to her momentum made the block stronger than she would have thought, and the Black Rider actually stumbled back a little.

Emma took advantage of this and held a hand out to her mother, who had fallen to the ground. Mary-Margaret took it, looking at her daughter in wonder while David took Emma's place and fended off their persistent foe.

"Emma." she breathed in relief. "You're back."

Emma managed a weak smile. " 'Course I am. Did you really expect me to miss out on all the fun?"

Her mother let out an exhilarated, disbelieving laugh.

"Precisely which definition of 'fun' did you have in mind?"

Emma grinned, all thoughts of their previous argument gone.

"How about: 'extremely dangerous and frightening situations'?"

Mary-Margaret laughed again and Emma pulled her up. They turned in unison to see another Nazgúl approaching them. They exchanged a resigned look - watch my back, it said.

Emma blocked a massive blow with her sword while Mary-Margaret notched an arrow and let it fly. She felt the force of the blow shake her very bones, and her sword arm would have dropped had it not been for her determination to ward this thing off. Emma stumbled back, shaken. Her parents were now hailing blows - both of sword and arrow - on the beast. Not that they had any effect: the arrows merely shattered on impact, and David couldn't make a single one of his thrusts connect.

Emma looked around, confident that David and Mary-Margaret could hold their own for the moment. She saw Hook block an offensive from his opponent and throw a large rock at it, witnessed Regina kick away an evil-looking dagger kung-fu style and Gold whack a Nazgúl with his cane. They were dealing remarkably well considering they technically hadn't fought for about thirty years. Then Emma spotted the hobbits; Sam and Pippin were stirring on the floor, and Merry was scrambling up again, sword aloft. Emma soon understood why: a Ringwraith - no, three of them - were approaching Frodo, who was cowering on the ground, scrabbling backwards and looking scared out of his mind.

Emma couldn't blame him, to be honest. Those things were pretty damn terrifying as far as she was concerned. But Frodo soon met a stone wall behind him, and found he could go no further. His pale face was frozen in terror, and he seemed to be drowning in fright. Emma wrenched her gaze from him, and saw a Black Rider coming for her. She dodged a heavy blow and attacked her opponent, raining blows on the seemingly-indestructible creature. She thanked whatever deities there could be in this world that adrenalin was on her side right now; the chemical was shielding her from the paralytic fear and cold that had previously rendered her incompetent when faced with these things. It didn't do anything about the shrieks, though. The bloody creature kept making insanely loud noises – something like a cross between a banshee and a drowning cat. Her head felt like it was being drilled to death.

A moment later, the Black Rider seemed to lose interest in her. It turned its head towards Frodo - around whom its fellows were standing - as though suddenly distracted by a call. Emma glanced at Frodo, and noted with worry that he seemed once more to be in a trance. She saw a glint of gold in his hands and knew that he was fiddling with the Ring. Suddenly, he disappeared.

Emma scowled. She hoped Frodo wouldn't make a habit out of vanishing like that; it was starting to seriously creep her out. He would soon get into trouble because of it, and they wouldn't be able to help him simply because they couldn't see him.

The Nazgúl crowded around the space Frodo had disappeared from, intent on it. Their leader, the tallest one, was stretching out a hand towards the ground, a wicked–looking dagger in the other. It seemed that they could still see him no matter the power of the Ring. Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw her companions get to their feet and advance towards the eerie group. Suddenly, a scream resounded around them, and Frodo reappeared, his face contorted in agony and the dagger impaled in his shoulder.

For a split-second, in the dim, flickering torchlight and screaming in anguish, Frodo looked at Emma. At that moment, his pale face – so full of pain and distorted with fright– looked uncannily like Henry's.

As Frodo and Emma locked eyes, her heart suddenly ripped. She felt something within her surge lightning-fast; in a blur, she saw the Nazgúl once again approach Frodo with the dagger, another throw Sam against a stone pillar, and Strider appear out of nowhere to attack the remaining Ringwraiths.

Emma felt power and magic bubbling away inside her, blinding her senses and yet strengthening her exhausted limbs. She barely felt herself run to Frodo. She didn't notice that she plunged her sword in the Ringwraith's back. She didn't feel the deadly numb spread from her fingers up her arms. All she saw was Henry's face as she stared at Frodo. The moment his name crossed her mind, the power burst out of her. She saw flames, she saw light, she heard Frodo's scream... and then darkness took her.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Emma was cold. So cold...

Was this death? She couldn't feel anything. Wait, she was thinking though, wasn't she? Did dead people conserve their ability to think when they kicked the bucket, then? She hoped so.

All the same, she wasn't sure she was dead. How about asking herself a few simple questions? All right, then:

What's your name? Emma Swan. Goody-good. She still knew who she was, then.

Where are you? Err. Good question. Last time she'd looked, she was on a hill, fighting...things. Big, scary black things. Nazgúl! That's what they were! Phew, she was glad they were gone now. Hold on a sec - were they?

Who were you with? Oh, that's easy: David, Mary-Margaret, Regina, Gold, that infuriating pirate, and the hobbits - Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin. Oh, and that mysterious ranger, Strider.

Where are they? Um... With her. Hopefully.

Where are you going? Some place where the elves live. Rivendell, she thought it was. Strider was being Strider and was being very mysterious about it. Oh, well. Stuff Strider.

Why are you going there? Because Gandalf said we should. And to help Frodo. And to save Henry.

Henry!

At the thought of her son, Emma jerked back to reality. And what a very cold and numb reality it was; not to mention the complete helplessness she felt right now. Emma struggled to move her limbs, but found she couldn't feel them, let alone move them. It was so dark, too... Maybe she would see some light if she opened her eyes.

Emma did so. She saw her lids open, and indeed blinding white light came through. Emma tried to groan, but she couldn't seem to order her mouth to open. She closed her eyes again, wanting to avoid the painful light. Something very strange was going on, but what?

She could hear buzzing now. The noise kept getting louder, droning on and driving into her head. Soon the buzzing turned into voices; they were calling to her, asking her to listen to them. All she wanted to do was wake up and find Henry. Go away, she thought, go away. Leave me alone.

Slowly, the voices became clearer and more recognisable. She identified Mary-Margaret's voice, and that of David. She thought she could also hear Strider and the hobbits.

Along with her hearing, Emma found that her touch and sight were returning, too. She could feel dull pain in both her arms, and she could sense a massive headache coming along as well.

Emma tried to open her eyes again. This time, the light wasn't as bright, and she could make out some vague shapes around her. She blinked, and the shapes became clearer. Mary-Margaret was leaning over her, looking worried out of her mind. Emma could see her mouth open and she heard noises coming out of it, but she couldn't understand them. She frowned, but her face muscles wouldn't respond either.

Emma was completely baffled. What the hell was going on?

She could feel numb oblivion claiming her again, and she gladly would have welcomed it. But Emma, being Emma, clung on to her semi-consciousness, forcing herself to wake up. She dragged her mind out of its sanctuary, though it cost her one of the biggest efforts of her life.

At last, she managed to move her head a little; she knew she had managed it because her dormant headache suddenly sprang back to life again, relentlessly pounding the inside of her brain.

Mary-Margaret seemed to have understood what she was trying to do, because she placed a gentle arm behind Emma's shoulders and lifted her a little. This tiny motion made Emma dizzy, and she flung a hand up to her head to steady herself. Well, she tried to. She still couldn't move her arms. Emma was starting to feel scared now. What was the was the matter with her arms?

In her panic, Emma's hazy sight sharpened at last, and so did her hearing. She could suddenly hear others' voices and see where she was. She didn't recognise the place: it looked like a small clearing, surrounded with trees. She could also see huge stone...were they statues? The light she had seen earlier came from a torch David was carrying. He looked as scared as Mary-Margaret.

"Is she alright?"

"Is she awake?"

"What happened to her?"

"Emma, honey, can you hear me?"

Emma turned at the sound of her name. She glanced up at her mother, who was still looking scared and worried. She tried to say "Yeah. I'm fine." but found herself unable to. Instead, she nodded slightly. She immediately regretted it; the pounding in her head increased twofold. She tried to sit up to make her dizziness go away.

"Don't try to sit up just yet, Emma." Said David, worry and fear straining his features. "You're in quite a state."

Emma ignored him. She sat up anyway as best as she could, clinging to Mary-Margaret for support. She was relieved to find she could at least stir her limbs, now. Strider came into view, a gourd and a few leaves in his hands.

"Try to swallow these." He said quietly. "They'll clear your head and reduce the pain."

Emma looked at him gratefully, and obediently chewed and swallowed the leaves her mother was fed her. She gulped down a few sips of water. Immediately, the pounding in her head lessened considerably, and her sight cleared completely . The pain in her arms was still there though. She tried to move them again. With difficulty, she managed to lift and bend them a little. Relieved that at least she wasn't totally paralysed, Emma sat up properly and turned to her companions, all of whom were goggling at her in various degrees of worry.

"What happened?" she croaked, and was pleasantly surprised she'd found her voice again.

Her companions exchanged glances. It was David who first spoke.

"You... you gave us quite a fright, Emma." He said, his voice shaking slightly at the memory of it. "We were all fighting the Black Riders, and then they all crowded around Frodo. We all saw him vanish, and then the big Rider stabbed him with that dagger. Then you... you glowed. Some sort of light was coming from inside you, and your eyes turned purple. We were shouting at you, asking you what on earth was going on. But you didn't seem to hear us. You saw Strider appearing to help us fight, and you just ran straight for the Ringwraith - the one in front of Frodo - holding your sword up and...and stabbing the thing in the back! The light coming from you then sort of...exploded - It was so bright we couldn't see for a few moments. When the light was gone, all the Black Riders around Frodo were running off, and Strider was still fighting the last one. You were lying on the ground. We all thought you were... dead." He finished with a choke.

Emma was staring at him open-mouthed. Regina and Hook were still looking dumbfounded, whilst Gold eyed Emma curiously. He didn't look worried in the slightest, but could have been chatting with Emma about purple three-headed dragons.

"But... why did I do that? What happened? Why was I knocked out afterwards?" Emma asked in bewilderment.

Mary-Margaret shook her head in helplessness. "We don't know. Nothing seemed to have particularly triggered it. One moment you were fighting, then you were watching Frodo being stabbed, and the next you were stabbing the Black Rider yourself. "

Emma looked at Gold and Regina, certain they knew something about this. Uncomfortable under her scrutiny, Regina answered her first.

"It was undoubtedly magic." She said matter-of-factly, ignoring the hobbits' and Strider's looks of bewilderment. "But I have no idea how you worked it. It didn't look like you had any control over what it was doing to you, nor what you were doing yourself."

Emma nodded, her suspicions confirmed. Magic was yet again behind something no-one could explain. Emma remembered the bizarre feeling when she had seen Henry's likeness in Frodo's pain-stricken face. She hoped it wasn't anything ominous, and for that reason she decided to keep quiet about it.

Still not satisfied but knowing that no-one could explain what had happened, Emma turned her attention back to the others. Strider came up to her, looking concerned.

"How do you feel?" he asked her.

Emma shrugged and grimaced. "Lousy. I can barely feel my arms apart from some sort of dull throb. And it feels like my head isn't connected to my body."

Strider nodded, looking unsurprised. "Look at your arms." He said grimly.

Emma did so, and she gasped at the horrible sight of her flesh. Her bare forearms were covered in patches of bruised, almost black shadows. She touched one of them, and she felt the dull pain more sharply, but didn't actually feel her finger on her skin.

"What's this?" she cried. "Why are they like that?"

Strider looked grim.

"The Nazgúl are one of the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They are neither dead nor living, but cursed beings. They are trapped in a shadow-land, where no living things exist. When a Nazgúl is harmed – like the one you stabbed – they make sure their attacker is fatally injured as well. It is called the Black Breath; the resultant wound is not physical, but plunges the victim in a deep, cold sleep. Only their will to live can save them. Your arms are covered with the marks of a beast such as they."

Emma stared at her arms in desperation. They looked dead, all right. "Is there anything we can do to make it go away?"

Strider nodded. "Perhaps. But you need Elvish medicine. This is beyond my power to heal." He cast Emma and admiring look. "You are already extremely fortunate to have woken up. Normally victims of the Black Breath do not. They die of cold and starvation."

Emma gulped. "Yeah," she croaked, "About that. How come I'm awake? According to what you said, I'm supposed to be in some sort of coma."

Strider shook his head. "That I do not know. Mayhap it is linked to your power – the light you gave out during the incident." He gazed at her, his expression bemused and curious. Emma couldn't blame him. It probably wasn't every day in Middle-Earth you witnessed magic exploding out of someone.

Emma took a deep breath, and nodded. The sight of her mangled arms had been quite a shock to her. She looked around her. The clearing was small, and they were surrounded by – yes, she'd been right – massive statues. Trolls, by the look of them.

"Where are we?" she asked, more out of curiosity than worry.

It was Sam who answered her. With a smile, he said "This is where Mr Bilbo was caught by the trolls; they kept arguing about how they were going to cook him and his companions. But they were eventually turned to stone when the sun rose. Mr Gandalf had been distracting the trolls to make them forget the time. Haven't you ever heard Mr Bilbo tell the story? He's mighty fond of it, 'specially at parties."

Emma shook her head, smiling faintly.

Suddenly, she noticed that someone was missing from the crowd around her.

"Frodo - where's Frodo?" she asked in alarm.

The others looked even more worried at the mention of the hobbit.

Regina answered her. "You..weren't the only one who was hurt, Miss Swan." She said, choosing her words carefully. "As you know, he was stabbed in the shoulder. But...it wasn't any ordinary dagger." She finished uncomfortably.

Emma felt fear surge within her again. "Why? What happened to him?"

Strider sighed, and gestured to a bundle of cloaks and blankets on the ground a few feet away from her – it had previously been blocked from her sight by Merry and Pippin.

"He was stabbed by a Morgul blade." The ranger said sadly.

"What does that mean? Will he be all right?" she inquired anxiously.

Strider shook his head and Emma felt like her stomach had turned to ice.

"He is passing into the shadow world. Frodo will soon become a wraith like them." he murmured.

Emma stared at the little bundle of blankets, which was stirring feebly. Frodo's mop of dark curls was tossing from side to side, and she could hear him whimpering, though whether from pain or fever she couldn't tell.

Emma felt terrible. Not only was the pain in her arms throbbing more than ever, but hot, bubbling guilt was churning in her navel.

"This is all my fault," she choked. "I was fighting that Nazgul before he went towards Frodo. And now he's going to become one of them! If I'd just beaten him..."

Mary-Margaret grabbed her daughter's shoulders, turning her so that she faced her full-on.

"Emma, listen to me." she ordered, her eyes flashing. "This is not your fault. Frodo is the Ring-Bearer. You heard Strider: those things are drawn to the Ring, and they're practically invincible. There was nothing - nothing - you could do to prevent what happened."

Emma looked down, tears prickling her eyes. What Mary-Margaret was saying was true, and yet Emma still felt the weight of guilt and sadness crushing her.

Snow was still holding her daughter's shoulders, holding her as firmly as if her very grip would convince Emma of her innocence in the terrible event that had just befallen Frodo.

Emma's head was bowed, and tears were leaking out of her eyes again. She was still unable to digest the terrible fate that awaited the sweet little hobbit. He had done nothing to deserve it, how was it _fair_?

In any case, their only hope was to reach Rivendell as soon as possible, before the venom had time to drag Frodo into the shadows forever... A terrible doubt suddenly made itself known to Emma.

"How long has it been since the attack?" She asked at large, dreading the answer.

Her companions all exchanged anxious looks, as though their suspicions were confirmed. At last, Strider answered her, though looking grimmer by the minute.

"Three days," he said quietly, "the force of the attack on you both was enough to keep you unconscious for the whole time. This is only the second time we've stopped to rest since we left Amon-Súl."

It was certainly true; now that she noticed it, all her companions looked like lukewarm death: the only colours in their pale, waxy faces were the large purple shadows under their eyes, and the whites of their eyes were red with exhaustion. Emma stared at them, dread and horror settling at the very bottom of her stomach.

"But... but Frodo needs help now. How are we going to get to Rivendell in time? We're six days away from it – we won't get there in time!"

Strider nodded, reaching down to gather the blankets around her and picking up the little leaves that had so miraculously cured Emma's headache.

"Which is why we should set off with all haste. You are awake now, but Frodo's state has worsened: his skin has turned cold and he no longer heeds our voices."

Emma gulped silently as she digested these news, feeling the necessity to move now more than ever. She gripped Mary-Margaret's arm and shifted her legs, managing to lift herself off the ground without toppling over. Her legs felt leaden, but she was pleased to see that they did, at least, respond. Mary-Margaret frowned. She obviously disapproved of so rash an action so soon after the exit of a coma, but clearly the urgency of the situation robbed her of any comment.

Emma managed to take a couple of steps, but stumbled on the third. She clung to her friend for support. Emma felt ashamed; what must everyone think of her? She was the lucky one, she'd survived the Nazgúl's attack. And yet here she was, leaning on others because she couldn't even walk three steps!

Mary-Margaret appeared to have read her thoughts.

"You're not weak." She said firmly. "You've woken up from a coma literally five minutes ago and you're already walking. Which, if anything, shows you're much stronger than most."

Emma tried to smile her thanks, but failed to find the energy. The longer she stayed standing, the more she could feel the little strength she had ebbing from her limbs. She swayed, and this time both David and Mary-Margaret caught her. Her mother looked more worried than ever now, and she turned to Strider.

"She can't move just yet; to do so now would cause irreparable damage. She needs rest, Strider!" Mary-Margaret cried in anguish.

Emma shook her dizzy head feebly.

"No." She mumbled. "Must move - must help... Frodo." She could hear her voice as though from outside her own head. It sounded so weak, so _feeble_. So unlike the Emma from the world she knew. Even the Emma in the Enchanted Forest had been stronger than this one!

Emma felt David's strong arms wrap around her, lift her and place her unresponsive body on Bill the pony's back. The poor creature already had many packs and blankets lashed onto him, and the little consciousness Emma still had felt sorry for him. She heard Strider's voice come from her right, and she saw from her now-foggy vision a dark shape that looked like his cloak.

"Bill can carry her for now. I'll take Frodo from now on. We must move now; they're close."

Emma felt the sudden movement of the pony beneath her, and she clung on to the packs with all her might. She could still feel David's arm around her waist as the company moved forward, but her senses were closing in around her. Soon, darkness took her again, and she knew no more.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The next few hours felt like an eternity to Emma. She kept floating in and out of consciousness, each time finding herself still on the pony's back, but pacing along a different path – sometimes woods, others rocky paths, and sometimes wide open, grassy plains under the starry sky. While she tried with all her might to stay awake every time she surfaced, the numb cold and obscurity claimed her mind all over again. She felt dull pain in her arms whenever she awoke, while dark dreams and despairing thoughts filled her mind when she succumbed to shadows time and time again.

The motley group of companions thus walked on for most the night. As they trekked through yet another small forest, they halted again. This was not for rest, but rather because Strider thought he could hear the Ringwraiths ahead of them - something which rather dissuaded the others from moving anywhere forward. And so they stopped once more; David and Hook gently lowering Emma from Bill's back onto the ground, while Strider deposited Frodo next to her. The others were drooping with exhaustion, and only urgency and their acute fear of their pursuers kept them alert.

Strider grabbed a torch from David and scouted around the small clearing they had stopped in. Behind him, Frodo was whimpering and sounded as though he was struggling for breath. Emma was unconscious once more, and now her skin had turned cold as well. As David shifted her into a more comfortable position, her sleeve rucked up a little and he saw that the deathly bruises had spread even more.

"Strider, they're getting worse." David said, not bothering to keep the panic from his voice. "If we don't get help now they won't survive."

Strider nodded curtly, clearly just as concerned. He turned to Sam, who was staring at the two still victims with tears in his eyes.

"Sam," he called to the hobbit, "do you know of the athelas plant?"

"Athelas?"

"Kingsfoil."

"Kingsfoil, aye; it's a weed." said the confused little hobbit.

"It may help to slow the poison. Hurry, we must find some if they are to live."

Both silhouettes disappeared among the trees around them, one stout and the other lean and tall. Mary-Margaret looked too distressed for words, and even Regina and Gold looked worried over the fate of their companions. Hook was crouched next to Emma's head, and he brushed a lock of hair from her face.

"Come on, lass." He muttered. "Don't give up now, you haven't found your boy, yet. Think of the number of times you'll get to punch me before then, too."

David and Mary-Margaret stared at the pirate in slight disbelief, then exchanged a somewhat confused look. David was about to say something pretty sharp when another shriek they now associated with fear and death resounded around them.

"They're close." David said, grabbing another torch. "I'm going to help the others find this plant. You guys keep watch."

"I'm coming with you, mate." interjected Hook, getting to his feet and drawing out his sword.

David looked like he might object, but thought better of it and nodded curtly. The two men went after Strider and Sam, the flickering light of the torch soon vanishing among the trees.

They soon separated however, once they had found Strider and obtained a description of the plant from him. Hook strode through the undergrowth, scanning the ground for the miracle-plant, its small pointed leaves and tiny white flowers. Thoughts were racing through his mind. He didn't want Emma or Frodo to die; in fact, he rather liked Frodo, he was a good chap - very hospitable and didn't ask too many questions. And as for Emma... Well, he'd be damned if that girl went down without a fight. The thought that Swan could die like this was ludicrous: about as compatible with the mind as a sweet-distributing Crocodile or a fluffy dragon.

At last, Hook thought he saw what could possibly be the much-desired plant. He bent down and plucked at sprig of it, but found he needed his sword to cut it loose. As he did so, he felt a something cold and sharp press against the skin of his throat.

"Now, what -" said a voice, "- do we have here?"

Hook leaped up, pushing aside the blade and brandishing his own. He pointed it at his aggressor. He was mildly impressed. Not many people could sneak up on Captain Hook and go un-noticed.

What he saw, however, robbed him of any straightforward thoughts at all. The...well - _being_ in front of him was the most ethereal, glowing and other-worldly creature he has ever seen.

The creature, **(A/N: who for the sake of simplicity and lack of lexical choice will from now on be referred to as a person)** had his blade steadily pointed at Hook's face, and appeared to have a good many other knives and such on his person. He was certainly humanoid, had long pale hair, pointed features - including his ears - and piercing eyes. Something told Hook that if he were to attack this person it would be the very last thing he would ever do. For this reason, he lowered his sword completely.

"Hello, mate." he said in an attempt of a casual tone.

The glowing man raised a finely arched eyebrow. Hook felt awkward - how was this going to end? Lots of things he wanted to say were bustling about on the tip of his tongue, and he ended up blurting out possibly the most inadequate one of all.

"What are you?" he asked, putting all manners aside.

"The question is," another voice behind him said, "who are you, and what are you doing here?"

Hook whirled around, brandishing his sword again. Somehow, whoever was behind him knew what he would do, and his blade clashed with another well before it was supposed to. He locked eyes with this second attacker, and this time found himself staring at the face of a woman. A woman of extraordinary beauty of the same sort as her companion's: glowing, strange, and ethereal. Like her friend, she was like a human and yet nothing like a human at all.

Rolling his eyes, Hook lowered his blade again.

"Might I inquire as to the night-time wanderings of two people such as yourselves?" he asked, trying to appear unconcerned, though his mind was racing and his heart beating faster than a rabbit's.

The woman's large blue eyes held his gaze evenly for a few moments before she answered.

"We are looking for friends of ours. They are in need of help and we have come to supply it."

Hook visibly brightened at that. He sheathed his sword and grinned at the two people - who were both completely bemused by now, both by his speech and lack of defense. Normally, Hook would have agreed with them, but right now there were urgent things to attend to.

"Say, these friends of yours, they wouldn't include four hobbits and a ranger called Strider?"

The look on the woman's face confirmed his suspicions.

"You know them?" she asked cautiously, her eyes wide with hope.

Hook grinned. "Know them? I've been travelling them for two bloody weeks, love. I'd say I know them, all right."

The other glowy fellow frowned and raised his sword slightly in response to Hook's familiar address to his companion. "How do we trust you?" he asked in slightly accented English.

Hook sighed. "No need to get hostile, mate. I'm only trying to make acquaintances. We do in fact need help. Two of our number are injured, and they only have hours - perhaps a day - if they don't get some soon."

The male person opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by somebody crashing through the trees. It was Strider. Glancing at Hook's entourage, he seemed to immediately recognize them. He walked up to the man and clasped his forearm, speaking words in a strange language Hook could make neither head nor tail of. He then turned to the woman, who smiled at him. She spoke to him in the same language, and he replied before turning to Hook again, who gestured helplessly.

"Care to explain, mate?"

Strider chuckled.

"These people will not harm us, Captain. They are friends of mine."

"Fine." Hook muttered. "But what kind of people are they? Glow-in-the-dark practice targets for hunters?"

The male creature looked affronted, but the woman laughed. Strider looked like he was resisting the temptation to roll his eyes.

"They are elves, Captain." he said. "They have come here especially to aid us."

Hook blinked in disbelief.

"Elves. All right, fine. Elves." he said mildly. "Excuse me for a minute, will you?"

With that, he strode off, leaving the three others behind him - two of them considerably confused, and the other trying to hide his amusement. They immediately moved to follow Hook, and they walked thus with a distance of about twenty feet between them.

Hook stumbled through the forest, trying to find his way back to the camp. On the way, he bumped into David, who stared at Hook's tag-alongs in amazement.

"Who... What are they?" he asked in wonder.

"Strider's got elf friends." Hook called back at him over his shoulder as he continued to walk.

"Elves?"

"Elves. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll make my way back to reality."

Hook strode forward, leaving David looking flabbergasted, while Strider and his companions looked rather amused.

At last, the whole party had arrived to the small clearing. Hook was once more kneeling beside Emma, talking to her while she opened her eyes and looked around dazedly. Mary-Margaret smiled at her daughter, and looked up when she heard the last people enter the glade. Her mouth dropped open slightly when she saw the elves, but closed it again quickly and instead went over to her husband, who was still having trouble taking his eyes off the strange beings.

"Emma's awake. " she said, smiling reassuringly at Strider and David. "She says she can hear us and everything, but... Frodo's worse." she finished worriedly. "He's completely beyond consciousness now, and nothing we do seems to attract his attention." She turned to Strider's elven companions.

"I believe we haven't been introduced." she said with all the courtesy of the princess she was. "My name is Mary-Margaret, and this is my husband, David."

The two elves bowed their head, their right forearms over their hearts.

"I am Glorfindel of the House of Elrond." the male elf said in greeting. "And my companion is Arwen, daughter of the Lord Elrond. We heard of your coming and went to find you."

"We have been searching for you for two days." Arwen said. "But we did not realize so many of you would travel together."

Mary-Margaret gave her a small smile. "Ours is a long story. It would take too long to tell it all now, and at the moment we need all the time and help we can get." She gestured towards Emma and Frodo. "Frodo and Emma were both victims of the Nazgúl, and they are in grave danger of a fate worse than death. Will you help us?"

The two nodded, and swiftly made their way to the two still figures. By now Emma had sunk into unconsciousness again, and Frodo's skin had taken on a green tinge.

Arwen knelt down between them, examining first Emma then Frodo.

"They are fading." she said grimly. "Yet there is still time before the poison takes them completely. We may save them if we can get them both to my father in time."

"How long do we have?" asked Mary-Margaret anxiously. The situation was worse than she'd thought.

Arwen shook her head slightly, her brow furrowed. "I cannot say for sure. Frodo will soon become a wraith - perhaps another day and it will be too late. As for Emma...I am afraid I have never seen anyone survive such an attack before. I am unable to estimate how much longer she has left, which is why we need to depart as soon as possible."

"How?" asked David testily. "We've been walking for days. Rivendell is still too far away."

Glorfindel smiled for the first time. "We did not come alone." he said. He put his fingers to his mouth and let out a long, wavering whistle. The others cringed inwardly at the apparent stupidity of this: the noise would attract the wraiths!

What they heard in response however, was not the apprehended shriek of the Black Riders. A long whinny answered Glorfindel's call, and soon the galloping of hooves could be heard.

A few moments later, two horses - one white, one bay - burst into the clearing and trotted over to their masters. The humans and hobbits looked on, stunned. Wide smiles spread across their faces however, when they realized that their companions were about to get all the help they could possibly get.

Arwen grabbed the reins of the white horse.

"I will take Frodo, and my Lord Glorfindel will take Emma." she said, picking the little hobbit up and gently placing him on the saddle. "There are five wraiths behind you. Where the other four are, I do not know. We will ride with all haste to my father."

Just then another insanely shrill shriek resounded across the clearing. Glorfindel and Strider glanced around, alert to the extreme once more.

"Hurry," said Glorfindel, "we must leave at once."

He and David lifted an unconscious but feebly stirring Emma onto the back of the bay horse, and Glorfindel swung up behind her. For some reason, Hook looked slightly annoyed.

Strider was talking to Arwen quietly in the strange language Hook had heard earlier. He seemed to be objecting to her going along with Glorfindel and their two friends. Arwen just smiled and replied reassuringly in the same language.

"I do not fear them." she said in English, looking up at Strider.

The latter smiled a little sadly, squeezed her hand and lifted her up into the saddle.

David and Mary-Margaret glanced at each other, smiling slightly. They knew love when they saw it.

The others, however, did not appear to have noticed anything. Regina was folding the blankets up and strapping them to Bill's back, while Gold lit more torches. Hook was fumbling at his side for his flask of rum, clearly still shaken by this rather other-worldly situation.

All remaining companions who were not leaving with the riders gathered around the horses. Mary-Margaret squeezed her daughter's hand, while David hugged his wife in what little comfort he could offer. Emma seemed to be struggling to become conscious once more, and her eyelids were beginning to flutter. Arwen glanced anxiously at her, and steered her horse in preparation to leave the clearing. She looked down at Strider again, who reached up for her hand.

"Arwen," he murmured, "ride hard. Don't look back."

Arwen nodded, murmured something to her mount and kicked him forward. Her horse sprang to action at once, and departed at a gallop, immediately followed by Glorfindel and Emma on their own horse.

The eight remaining companions stared at their retreating backs until they disappeared from their view. When the shadows of the trees had finally swallowed their silhouettes, Strider turned and began strapping everything that was left on Bill's packs once more.

"Our companions are on their way to safety, but we are still in grave danger. We make for the Ford of Amen. If we are lucky, we may reach it within two days. Any questions?"

Hook cleared his throat. "Yes, actually. Did you just send them into almost certain death?"

Strider glanced at him darkly. "They are in no more danger than we are. It was also the only way of getting them to safety in time. The wraiths may follow them, but until then we are the bait. There is no telling what they will do next."

"What do you mean?" asked Regina, looking scared at the notion of them being bait.

"All they want is the Ring and the one who bears it." Strider answered grimly, fastening his bow and arrows on his back. "With luck, they will not have noticed that the Ring-Bearer has left our midst. If Frodo and Emma are to survive, we must hope they come after us instead."

The three former villains glanced at each other in horror. They hadn't realized the dual danger of the situation: either the wraiths went after Emma and Frodo - of which there was very little chance they came out alive of; either the wraiths came after them, in which case they would probably die as well. Even David and Mary-Margaret paled; sacrifice, even for their daughter, hadn't really crossed their minds until then.

**That's all for today, folks. Hope you liked it!**

**Also, please drop in a comment, I would be ecstatic to have some of your ideas and things to say about this story so far. For example: well-written? Any character needs doing a little more ?(except Gold, I've got something coming for him...) Any typos?**

**Also QUIZ ALERT! I've been dropping references to other books, movies, stories etc through out the whole story; the reader who can get the most them correct will get a prize! (And the best bit is, the winner can choose what ever prize they like - as long as it's something that can be done on ) Let the best one win! Hint: some of them are really tiny; I wouldn't expect any of you to get them all unless of course you know the HP and Narnia books literally off by heart... : )**


End file.
